


January

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: A Year of Writing [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alive Thorin, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Spoilers for Battle of Five Armies, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:39:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 34,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relationship between a Hobbit and a Dwarf can be a strange, but peaceful, occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plant Your Acorn

**Author's Note:**

> Based on ThingsIShouldn'tBeDoing's [365 Thilbo Writing Challenge](http://thingsishouldntbedoing.co.vu/post/106783456069/365-days-of-thilbo-day-one-welcome-back)  
>  
> 
> [Her AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thingsishouldntbedoing/pseuds/thingsishouldntbedoing)  
> [Her Tumblr](http://thingsishouldntbedoing.co.vu/)
> 
> I most likely will not be able to do this for an entire year, so a month at a time will be my goal òvó

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is where Bilbo wishes to plant his acorn. Thorin is momentarily confused by this.

"I want to plant the acorn." Bilbo said one day.

Thorin looked up sharply, eyes drawn to the small acorn Bilbo restlessly turning between his little fingers. It had been five months since the Battle of Five Armies - five months since Thorin had been on death's door. He wondered if Bilbo had yet to forgive him for almost dying; sometimes he could feel the little thing watching him with eyes wide full of distress that ached for relief.

"I said I would plant it at my home, to watch and grow and remember all that had happened on this unexpected journey." Bilbo continues, smoothing the pad of his thumb down the lighter coloured side of the acorn. Thorin thought that for a moment he may have been talking more to himself than to the Dwarf, but then Bilbo looked up to meet Thorin's eyes.

The Dwarf king cleared his throat. "You wish to return to the Shire, then?" It was difficult to talk around the lump settling in his throat. He would never admit it if directly asked, but his affections for the Hobbit ran very deep. He was sure that Bilbo was his One, but he did not want to force his sentiments on the little Hobbit. He was unsure as to how much madness the poor thing could take, even though he knew that Hobbits were quite resilient. 

"The Shire..." Bilbo murmured, a frown touching his lips. 

Thorin wondered if Bilbo considered the Shire to be his home anymore. He knew how travel could skew a person's homely compass, especially one that was as tumultuous as the one they had undertook. 

Especially for a Hobbit, as well, considering how reluctant they were to leave their little homes under hills.

"Do you not wish to return to the Shire?" Thorin asks carefully.

Bilbo's frown deepens. "I sometimes miss the Shire, not that I don't like it here, because I do, it's wonderful. But... I've been away for so long and going from having you lot around to... just me f-feels odd." He was starting to stumble over his words, as though he was unsure of what he was saying. "Though I understand that having a simple Hobbit like me around probably isn't very kingly, and I truly must have ov-over stayed my welcome by now, surely-"

Thorin reached across the table that separated them and wrapped his hands around Bilbo's. He could feel an edge of the acorn, warmed by Bilbo's fingers, pressing insistently against his palm as the little Hobbit's hands trembled. 

"Master Burglar, there is no measure of time in which you would overstay your welcome with us." _With me._ "There is nothing I would not try to grant you, should you desire it."

Bilbo lifted his eyes from their clasped hands. He was still trembling a little.

Thorin tightened his grip, even though his heart was racing within his ribcage. He wished he could sweep the insecurities away from his hobbit's heart, much like how Bilbo had swept the Gold Sickness from him.

"Nothing?" Bilbo echoed faintly.

Thorin realised he might have been as oblivious as a hunk of stone when it came to Bilbo. "Bilbo, if you would like to remain in Erebor then you are more than free to do so." Thorin says, lifting a hand to touch Bilbo's cheek. Even now, after knowing the Hobbit for so long, he was still surprised to find him so soft. "I would like nothing more than to have my Master Burglar by my side, if he so chooses."

Bilbo's eyes glossed over momentarily. "I-I do not... I don't know what to say, I'm afraid."

Thorin chuckled, and ran his thumb over the Hobbit's cheek. "Would you like to plant your acorn here, Master Burglar? I'm sure we can find some place for you to build a garden."

Bilbo allowed a small laugh, closing his eyes to lean into Thorin's touch. "There is nothing I would like more."


	2. Growing Affections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin observes his Hobbit, and comes to the realisation that their relationship is something more than just friends.

Hobbits, for what they were worth, are strange creatures. They have more than the usual amount of meals a day, and have un-proportioned feet that hardly ever require shoes. 

Thorin's ears had only heard whispers of Hobbits before embarking on his quest to reclaim Erebor with his company of twelve other Dwarves and a Wizard - until said Wizard added in a Hobbit to the mix. Truly, the would-be king did not expect much from the little Hobbit who hardly seemed to know what was going on. For a time, the little one lived up to Thorin's rather low expectations - he sneezed at pony hair and tried to turn the entire company around for a forgotten handkerchief, for Mahal's sake. 

But, as it sometimes goes, Thorin had never been more wrong in his life. 

The little Hobbit could be a force to be reckoned with, if his will so chose to desire. After Thorin's life had been saved by Bilbo Baggins, Master Burglar, Thorin had become simply enamoured with Hobbits.

Or, more specifically, _his_ little Hobbit.

He didn't think the company noticed, not for some time anyway. Dwarves, as it were, were somewhat oblivious creatures. Not naïve, but oblivious, yes. More often than not Thorin could feel Gandalf's glittering eyes watching him as he in turn watched the Hobbit. It was unnerving, but could not deter him from observing Bilbo. 

The more they travelled, and the more Thorin got to know of Bilbo, the more his affections grew. Eventually he found that he could see no flaw in the Hobbit. Everything about him seemed deliciously balanced and beautiful. From his soft, luscious curls that sat messily atop his head, to his pale, smooth skin that bore obvious signs of continuous travel, to his small, delicate fingers that could do intricate detail work that only the fewest of Dwarves could manage. Really, his Hobbit appeared perfect. 

But Thorin especially admired Bilbo's eyes. Not only for their colour, which was warm and inviting, but also because of the way in which they appeared fragile. While Bilbo was more resilient than Thorin first gave him credit for, his eyes could not help but convey more than his mouth or mind was willing or able to. Those two irises were like a clear stream during a summer day; open, and transparent, covered in a thin sheen of liquid that made them shine. Thorin had never seen such brilliance.

Some days it seemed as though Bilbo was aware of his mounting affections. Thorin did not assume that Hobbits were as oblivious as Dwarves, but he was fairly certain he could hide his desires expertly well. 

Gandalf seemed to sense his confusion one night, the corners of his lips curling as he observed the company. "Maybe he returns your sentiments." He had said.

Thorin frowned, turning a sharp look on the wizard. "Unlikely." He answers, because it was strange to think that kind-natured Bilbo would return his feelings after the way Thorin had first treated him.

"Hobbits are very forward creatures." Gandalf said. "But Bilbo is hesitant to disrupt any peace between he, you and the company."

"You talk as if you know of his feelings."

Gandalf had not answered, but his words cut a spot in Thorin's mind and would not leave. 

Maybe one day, after Erebor was reclaimed, he would confront his little Hobbit and possibly pursue a courtship. For now, he was content to observe Bilbo and would continue to keep him safe for as long as he could.


	3. An Anxiousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is extremely anxious under the weight of what has happened. Thorin seeks to fix that.

After everything was said and done, after Erebor had been reclaimed and Thorin and his sister-sons had been healed and the dragon sickness had left the Dwarf King...

Bilbo seemed to collapse.

It had all been so much - fearsome Orcs and a skin shifter and a thunder battle on a mountain and a fire-breathing _dragon_ \- it was just too much. The weight was too great to sit atop his shoulders any longer, and the little Hobbit found that he could hardly move from the terrified feeling that paralysed his limbs.

Rationally, he knew he had nothing to be afraid of. Everything was looking towards a better day - even the Elves and the Dwarves had struck up an unlikely, somewhat strained acquaintance. He should have been content with himself, for he was no longer just any Hobbit - he was an adventurer! He had seen things that Hobbits only dreamed about as children, and he had gained many friends he would otherwise have shied away from. Not to mention he could return to his little house under the hill and his armchair and his tea at four o'clock...

But just the thought of leaving his make-shift bedroom deep in the halls of the Dwarven kingdom sent shivers down his spine. 

And so he stayed tucked away in the darkest corner of the room, his knees to his chest and his hands in his knotty hair.

By now, he was sure it had been days since he'd left the room - two, at least. His stomach had stopped rumbling hours ago, and the distant ache of hunger was nothing but a dull throbbing in his chest. He'd had the thought to prop a chair under the door knob, and was glad he had. If anyone saw him as panicked and improper as he was now he was sure he would faint. 

Of course, his absence was soon noticed by the company of dwarves and he found out rather quickly that they knew exactly where he was hiding. The chair barred them from entering when he did not answer, at first, but a Dwarf was not to be ignored nor to be denied something they desired, even if that thing was entrance to Bilbo's temporary room. 

Especially when that Dwarf was Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. 

Bilbo hardly noticed when the fists banging against his door quietened and the Dwarves were commanded away. He did notice, however, when Thorin's deep voice carefully asked if he were alright.

"O-Oh, yes." Bilbo tried to raise his voice, to allow it to carry across the room and through the thick door, but he sounded weak and crackly to his own ears. "I'm quite alright, perfectly fine even. No need to worry about little old me, carry on- on with your day..."

And then the pressure was back, thick in his throat, and all he wanted to do was cry because the weight of everything was finally falling down upon his shoulders. 

"Master Baggins," Thorin edged, "Would you let me into the room?"

Bilbo hesitated. His corner was safe; nothing could get him or sneak up on him from behind, even though the coherent part of him realised there was nothing like that here, not anymore. So, ignoring the pain in his stiff limbs, he quietly made his way over to the door and gently moved the chair aside. 

He waited another moment before reaching for the door knob with a trembling hand and twisting it open, thankful that Thorin waited patiently for him to do it on his own. When the door was wide enough for him to peek through, he stilled.

"Are you alright, Master Baggins?" Thorin asked again, a frown tilting down his lips as he stared at Bilbo's dishevelled appearance. 

Bilbo's nose twitched. He wanted to say yes, that he was perfectly fine, but he knew he could not lie to Thorin if it was not for good purpose. Lying left a bitter taste on his tongue after everything that happened with the Arkenstone. 

Thorin was not as oblivious as Bilbo had thought all Dwarves to be. He didn't put up much of a protest when Thorin pressed the door open gently, knocking the knob from Bilbo's hands that instead went to fiddle with the hem of his dirty shirt. Bilbo could hear hushed whispers floating down the hallway - Thorin cast a sour look towards the eavesdroppers before squeezing into the room past Bilbo and shutting the door tightly.

"Now, what seems to be the problem?" Thorin questioned. He cast a questioning look down Bilbo's body before his frown deepened. "What is troubling you so that you have locked yourself away in this cold room?"

Bilbo didn't think the room was all that cold, or maybe he just hadn't noticed. 

"Bilbo," Thorin sighed, lifting his hands to grip the Hobbit's, "You know you may speak to me of anything that troubles you. I hate to see you so upset."

Bilbo was trying to keep himself in check, he really was, but seeing a softer side to Thorin he had hardly witnessed before was making that extremely difficult. "I'm- I'm fi-"

"If you tell me that you are fine, I will know you are lying, little Hobbit." Thorin said. There wasn't a stern bite in his voice, but it made Bilbo flinch nevertheless. 

With another soft sound of resignation, Thorin led Bilbo by the hands to sit on the stiff armchairs in the room. Thorin remained standing even as he forced the Hobbit to rest.

"Bilbo, what is troubling you?"

The Hobbit's nose twitched again. He licked his lips, startled by their dryness. "It's just- I don't know, it's just..." He took a deep, unsteady breath. "You almost died Thorin, you and Kili and Fili... and you all were nearly eaten by trolls and then there was that thunder battle on the mountain... and a _dragon_... It's all so much."

Thorin reached a hand to touch Bilbo's cheek, tilting the Hobbit's gaze up. "Bilbo you have the right to be stressed after situations like the ones we have been through. If you want to cry, or yell, or... leave, then it is your decision and no one will blame you."

"I don't want to leave!" Bilbo cried, before flinching as his voice echoed around the room. "I don't want to leave..."

"Then stay." Thorin said simply. "Stay in Erebor. Stay with us."

Bilbo felt his shoulders hunch. This was what he wanted, was it not? The Shire didn't feel like his home anymore - it could not be his home if his company of Dwarves were not there to create noise and mayhem in every corner. 

Bilbo jumped when he felt Thorin's arms, thick and warm, pull him into an embrace. "Will you not stay with me, Master Burglar? Despite all that I did to you, and knowing full well that I do not deserve even the smallest piece of your heart, I find myself very deeply in love with you... I owe you my life, many times over. Could you possibly find it in yourself to accept my courtship?"

Bilbo's eyes were wide, and glossed with a sheen of tears that would not fall. He remained stiff in Thorin's hold for a moment, before sniffling and reaching to wrap his arms around Thorin. He could not contain the overwhelming feeling of relief that broke across his mind like a ferocious wave upon a calm shore. "Of course." He mumbled weakly. "Of course, you silly Dwarf."

Thorin allowed a small smile of which he pressed into Bilbo's messy hair. "No more shutting yourself off like this, then. We are one; your pain shall be my own, and I will do all in my power to make sure you are never burdened with such things ever again."

Bilbo closed his eyes, and sniffled again. He pressed his nose into Thorin's shoulder, ignoring how the Dwarf's furs tickled him. "Why do you do such things for me? I... I l-lied to you, I betrayed you-!"

"No, Bilbo." Thorin cut in sharply. "You have saved my life countless times over, and all you did, you did to help me when I had fallen. I owe you a great debt that you do not seem to understand. I hope that one day you cannot wish for anything more because I have already given you everything you want."

Bilbo tightened his arms. That lump was back in his throat, but it wasn't so constricting, or heavy. He felt exhausted, and hungry, and cold, and for the first time in several days all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Now, let me take you some place warmer." Thorin says quietly, putting an arm around Bilbo's waist to gently guide him from the room. "I hope you do not mind my forwardness, but I will take you to my chambers."

Bilbo let out a soft groan. His limbs were not used to moving, and felt frozen. He was surprised to see the hallways had been vacated; the other Dwarves seemed to have moved on from their eavesdropping. 

Thorin's rooms made Bilbo's look like those befitting the lowest servant. The extravagance was very unnerving to Bilbo, but were likely those fit for Dwarven royalty. The bed, oh the bed, was so large and soft when Bilbo was guided down onto it that he felt the tension melt from his bones like wax under a flame. 

"Rest, my burglar." Thorin murmured, pulling the covers over Bilbo's shivering form. "I shall be here while you rest, and until you wake."

Bilbo briefly wondered if Thorin knew he had nightmares, ones that kept him from sleeping and plagued him like a disease. He wondered if Thorin knew he ached for company, for protection, and he wondered if Thorin had been wanting to provide him with that.

But he didn't wonder for long, for as soon as Thorin began to hum a soft song Bilbo was fast asleep.


	4. He Smiles For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time Thorin smiles, Bilbo smiles back.

"He smiles brightly when you smile at him."

Thorin jumps, unaware of his good friend Dwalin approaching him. The dining hall was full of the noise and chatter of a hungry company of Dwarves, but Thorin's little Hobbit was easy to track with his eyes.

"Who?" Thorin asks gruffly. 

"The Hobbit, of course." Dwalin sits beside him heavily, eyeing Thorin with a look that made him want to turn away. "You need to hurry and claim him as your own, or else some brave Dwarf will try."

Thorin bristled. "I don't know what you mean. Bilbo is his own, no Dwarf would try to court him."

"No Dwarf in your line of sight, you mean." Dwalin said, reaching for a pipe. "He's got beauty in his face, any person can see that, plain as day. Not to mention he's well liked by all that meet him, and he is favoured by a Dwarven King. And he helped slay a dragon, cannot forget that. Anybody in their right mind would admire the little thing."

Thorin's frown deepened with every word. He felt as though Bilbo was his - not in the possessive, Gold Sickness kind of way, but the way that bound them together peacefully for eternity. "I suppose you are right... I do not wish for Bilbo to be wisked away by a suitor."

"Unless that suitor is you, you stubborn Dwarf." Dwalin thumped him across the shoulder. "Now, smile at the Hobbit. It'll prove me right."

Thorin resisted the urge to huff and deny all that his friend had said, but nevertheless his curiosity got the better of him and he turned his eyes to Bilbo. The Hobbit seemed to feel eyes upon him rather quickly, and turned to send Thorin a puzzled expression.

Thorin forced a smile.

Bilbo offered a grin back.

Dwalin elbowed him in the side. "See what I mean? Completely smitten."

Thorin frowned at him again. "I still do not think it happens every time. I hardly smile."

"Oh, you smile quite a bit actually. Only at the Hobbit, though. You hardly seem to notice."

"I think I would notice such a thing."

 

Thorin was wrong. Very wrong.

Now conscious of his smiling habits, he found that he did in fact smile at Bilbo quite often.

And the Hobbit smiled back every single time.

Every time.

All of them.

Thorin was bewildered. Why would a creature as divine as Bilbo smile at him so often? Those smiles, however small or large, offered him a piece of sunlight that warmed the cold, stone walls of Erebor. 

He may have been going a little overboard, but he tested the smiling theory many times over the next week and a half. Bilbo had settled into life in the mountain rather easily, and spent much of his time either in the kitchen or in the library with Ori. Aside from that, Bilbo attended meals with the Dwarves and even some of the meetings Thorin was forced to suffer through. 

As such, Thorin had plenty of opportunities to smile at Bilbo and see if he smiled back.

Which he did, every time.

After another relentless round of prodding from Dwalin, Thorin decided he would talk to the Hobbit. 

Thorin cornered him in the library, surprised but a little relieved to find him alone. "Master Baggins, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Bilbo looks up from his book, and upon seeing a smile on Thorin's face, offers a grin of his own. "Of course! What can I help you with?"

"Actually," Thorin balked, unsure how to word his question, "I wanted to ask you something."

Bilbo gave him a puzzled look, gently closing the book in his hands. "Yes...?"

Thorin steeled himself. "I wondered how you would answer if I proposed a courtship." He says, and at Bilbo's continued confusion, adds, "Between us."

Bilbo seemed to stare at him for a moment, before his eyes got steadily wider and his hands came to cover his mouth. "Thorin- what brought this on, all of a sudden?"

Sometimes Thorin wanted to hide himself away in his room to avoid the embarrassment of social situations, like when his sister Dis attempted to talk him into marrying a girl many, many years ago when neither she or him appeared even remotely interested. This was also one of those times. Instead of hiding, however, he forced another smile, although he was sure it appeared much more like a grimace.

Bilbo, however, still offered a bewildered one.

"Because of that!" Thorin claims. "It is true - every time I smile at you, you return it. I cannot understand why a stunning creature like yourself would offer such a wondrous smile to me."

"S-stunning?"

"Well, yes." He answered gruffly. He had the decency to blush, though Bilbo's cheeks and ears were bright red already. "You are very beautiful, and your smile reminds me of the sun. I feel honoured to have it directed at me."

Bilbo flushed darker, and cleared his throat. "My answer is yes."

"Yes?" Thorin breathed.

Bilbo nodded several times. "Yes. Yes, I say yes."

Thorin couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face as he swept Bilbo up into a warm embrace. "Wonderful!"

Bilbo laughed quietly, amused at Thorin's joy, and returned the embrace even though his cheeks were still flushed. "Silly Dwarf."


	5. The Warmth Of A Fireplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin discovered the relationship between Hobbit's and fireplaces. He quite likes it.

Thorin discovered that if one were to place a slightly tired Hobbit in front of a warm, roaring fire, then said Hobbit would curl up into any body present and become extra sleepy and twice as cuddly.

Of course, the Hobbit in question didn't quite realise this himself. The rest of the company did, however, as it was not something Dwarves were used to seeing. 

Thorin was particularly enamoured with this new, unexplored side of Bilbo. He was sure his little burglar would not be so open around anyone aside from the company and himself, because Bilbo was still a respectable Hobbit at heart, but it warmed Thorin to know that Bilbo was comfortable enough in his presence to expose a softer side of himself.

Of course, Thorin did not take advantage of this new piece of knowledge. 

Not really, anyway.

And even if he was, Bilbo did not seem insulted, or anything of the like.

So Thorin didn't let that fact that he enjoyed coaxing Bilbo towards a fireplace late at night bother him. He often heard the other Dwarves, in particular his rowdy sister-sons, snickering at his wayward tactics, but a single sharp look from him sent them scurrying away. 

It eventually became a nightly occurrence, to relax and unwind in front of the fire place with Bilbo beside him. 

At first, they sat side by side, with several inches of distance between them. Thorin wanted to be closer, but he would not pressure Bilbo. He would allow Bilbo to control everything when it came to their budding relationship.

Slowly, the gap diminished, and as the weeks passed their positions became more relaxed and intimate. Thorin never ceased to be amazed at just how pliable Bilbo became. The little Hobbit would simply melt under the heat of the fire, strewn half across Thorin's lap with his head resting on the space above Thorin's heart.

Their relationship, for what it was worth, wasn't spoken about out loud. Thorin never felt the need to fully confirm with words just what he felt for Bilbo, and he never needed to question Bilbo's affections in return. 

They simply went from being two, to being one.

Thorin was alright with that. 

More than anything, he enjoyed his time spent with Bilbo. He enjoyed feeling the Hobbit's muscles relax, soothed by the heat of the flames as he settled against Thorin's larger form. He enjoyed listening to the soft breathes that puffed out from between Bilbo's pink lips. He enjoyed slowly petting Bilbo's mop of curls, and resting his cheek upon them when his hand started to ache from being held up too long. 

"This reminds me of my fireplace." Bilbo whispered one night, when the majority of the company had left the room they usually gathered in after dinner. Only Dwalin and Ori remained, huddled together in a far corner as Ori poured over his books and Dwalin watched. Bilbo turned his eyes up to Thorin. "In the Shire."

"Do you wish to return?" Thorin asked. The thought of Bilbo leaving left a sour taste in his mouth, but if his Hobbit wished to return to the Shire then who was he to stop him?

Bilbo shook his head, and rest his cheek against Thorin's chest. His arms, shorter than Thorin's, tightened their grip from where they had been resting loosely around the Dwarf's waist. "I like the fireplaces here." Bilbo says. The reflection of the flames danced in his eyes. "They are much warmer. I'd rather spend all my nights sitting before these fireplaces in the company of my stubborn Dwarf and his company than spend even on night alone in the Shire where my fireplace is my only friend."

 _My Dwarf._ Thorin let out a deep breathe, and ducked his head to press his forehead against Bilbo's. It was an intimate act, one that felt of greater importance than Thorin could imagine. "Whatever you wish, so be it. All I want is for you to be happy."

Bilbo knew of his lingering regrets after the Battle of the Five Armies - of succumbing to the Gold Sickness, of almost killing Bilbo, of almost dying himself, and mostly, he regretted any nightmares and insecurities he inadvertently gave Bilbo because of his actions.

But Bilbo had long since forgiven him, and everyday Bilbo's affections lead Thorin a step in the direction of forgiving himself.

"I am happy here." Bilbo says, his voice muffled by the coat Thorin wore. "I am no longer lonely, and I have... _friends._ And I have you, do I not?"

And then those big, trusting eyes were turned upon him and Thorin couldn't help but think he was the one that was melting. 

So he offered a faint smile, gently brushing his lips across Bilbo's. "Of course."

Bilbo smiled, before turning his attention to whatever thought chose to flitter through his head in that moment. Thorin's attention, once again, was drawn to the marvellous way in which Hobbit's simply became extra sleepy and twice as cuddly when left in front of a roaring fireplace.


	6. A Garden In Erebor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is unconscious for a long time after the Battle of Five Armies. In the meantime, Bilbo grows a garden and keeps him company.

It had been four weeks since the Battle of Five Armies. Bilbo was cold, and constantly tired, and all he wanted was for Thorin to wake from the slumber he had been in since that blade had pierced his chest. 

Kili and Fili had healed rather quickly, though it took Fili an extra week of rest. Now they were inseparable, and Bilbo didn't blame them. Sometimes he heard faint screams coming from their room at night, and he knew it was Kili having nightmares. When Fili was still asleep, and Kili was not, he had to be the one to comfort the poor Dwarf, not that he had minded. He had hoped he was enough for Kili, and he believed he had been, but no one would ever be good enough for him except for Fili.

Life in Erebor was strange, to say the least. The remainder of the company, as well as himself, had to take care of all political and otherwise business until Thorin awoke, and although the brothers helped, they were no king.

Placating the Elves had been an easy task. They returned the jewels Thranduil desired, and set up a respectable trade agreement that assured a somewhat peaceful future between the two races. Dealing with Men had been more difficult, but relations between those of Lake Town and the Dwarves had slowly settled into something manageable.

Several times, Dwarves from the company had offered to escort him back to the Shire. Even Tauriel offered, and Bilbo had almost taken her up on it - knowing that a powerful Elf such as her, and undoubtedly Legolas, would make sure he made it home was a comforting thought.

But he found that he could not leave. The Shire was such a distance away, and the thought of being alone and lonely (for those two things were entirely different) was very disheartening. He rather enjoyed the company of Dwarves and the odd Elf here and there.

But mostly, he did not wish to leave Thorin.

He loved the stubborn Dwarf, very, very much. By now Bilbo was certain that the other Dwarves had figured it out - Tauriel and Legolas had long since noticed, despite their only brief contact.

Bilbo spent much of his time by Thorin's bedside. Aside from that, he had shaped a small area for his new garden in the closest grassy part he could find, and he often cooked. When his flowers first began to bloom, he uprooted the nicest one and transferred it into a small, clay pot that could rest on the small table beside Thorin's bed.

It was his excuse to enter Thorin's room, though he hardly needed an excuse at all.

"The repairs are coming along well." Bilbo said quietly. His voice echoed around Thorin's empty room a little, and he decided that it needed more furs to muffle the sound. "Suprisingly, Master Dwalin has handled the Elves well too." He'd said it every day now, the same thing over and over, but he rationalised that if Thorin could possibly hear him one day, then he would surely want to know.

Bilbo watched the flower for a moment. Despite the lack of sun and the frigid temperature, it still bloomed well. It was a winter flower, so it must have been accustomed to such a lifestyle.

Small droplets of water fell from its short, green leaves. "I'm surprised it has lasted this long, to be truthful. The flower, that is." Bilbo says to the empty room, placing down the watering can. "Hopefully it will still be flowering when you wake."

He glanced at Thorin. The Dwarf's face was still lax, devoid of emotion or life. It made his heart clench painfully.

"Well, I should be off." Bilbo says quietly, disheartened. "I promised to help Ori in the library, and I have to prepare supper. Bombur likes my cooking very much." He chuckles weakly, and clenches his hands in the bottom of his shirt. "I'll see you tomorrow, Master Oakenshield. Until then..." He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Thorin's forehead.

He hoped that his king would awake soon.

 

As it so happens, Bilbo was in his garden when he got word that Thorin was awake.

He was sure his heart stopped in his chest when he heard Kili and Fili rush out those words. "I-is that so?" He tried to control the shaking in his voice, he truly did, but it was worse than the shaking in his hands, of which were currently wrist-deep in soil. His clothing was old, so he often wore it to garden - it was covered in stray, curled up leaves and sandy patches of dirt. He was sure there were flower petals and leaves tangled in his hair, as well, after a particularly nasty battle with a deep-rooted, flowering weed. 

"Do you not want to see him?" Fili questions, ignoring how Kili elbows him sharply.

"Is it my place to want to?" Bilbo wonders faintly, feeling his shoulders slump. "I did betray him, and lie... And I have stayed in Erebor, when I know I should have left..." 

A hand falling onto his shoulder makes him jump.

Kili looks down at him with a small smile. "It's okay, Bilbo. Everything you did, you did to save our Uncle. He loves you very much, you know. We can tell."

Fili was nodding. "We can, and he does. Not one of us wants to see you leave, either. You're basically family."

Again, Bilbo jumps, unused to hearing that word. _Family._ His eyes were wide, even as he thought frantically to himself. He had not really had family since his parents died ages ago, but he considered himself very close to these Dwarves in particular. 

"Come along, Master Baggins." Kili was grinning widely now as he heaved Bilbo up by the elbow. "I'm sure Uncle will be asking after you, by now."

Fili holds his other elbow, and between the two of them Bilbo is reassured that his shaking knees won't lead him to the floor. 

"A-are you sure?" Bilbo questions nervously, wringing his fingers. "Shouldn't I give him some time to... I don't know, r-rest or something? Do you not want to spend time with him yourself?"

"We will have much time to do that in the future." Fili says.

They round a corner, and Bilbo realises they're very close to Thorin's rooms. "I-I'm not sure if this is the smartest idea, really-"

"Ah!" Dwalin appears from Thorin's doorway suddenly. "Hobbit, there you are! This oaf won't stop asking after you." Dwalin grabs his elbow from Kili's grip and thrusts him into Thorin's room. "Get in there and knock some sense into him!"

"W-what?" Bilbo jumps as the door is shut and he is left in Thorin's all too familiar room.

"Bilbo."

The voice is weak, but Bilbo knows it like he knows no other.

"Thorin." He breathes. The sight of Thorin sitting in bed, propped up by numerous pillows with life present in his expression, stops Bilbo's frantic trembling. He moves towards the bed, and hesitantly takes Thorin's hand. "How are you?"

"Tired." Thorin's smile is weak, and Bilbo can see plain as day that there is exhaustion on Thorin's face. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything." Thorin pulled on his hand a little, and Bilbo moved to sit on the bed. "I threatened you. I hurt you. I almost killed you." He couldn't look Bilbo in the eyes. "You, who I owe everything to. I have never been so ashamed of myself, of my actions."

"Thorin..."

"No." Thorin shook his head, and turned his eyes up to Bilbo's with a new found conviction. "You must let me speak, Bilbo. I have done a great misdeed to you, and I do not deserve even a shred of forgiveness from you. But... But I hope that you may some day forgive me."

"Thorin, I was never angry." Bilbo says quietly. "How could I be? You have done much for me. I am not the same Hobbit I was before."

Thorin lets out a deep breathe. "When I was asleep, I thought I may have heard your voice."

Bilbo startles. 

"I heard you speak to me often. You told me of your day, or spoke of the Dwarves and the Elves and Erebor... was I delusional?"

Bilbo shakes his head, flushing.

Thorin's eyes drift to the flower, standing tall in its pot. "That is yours as well, then?"

Bilbo nods.

"It's beautiful." Thorin murmurs. "Did you grow it?"

Bilbo nods. "I hope you don't mind... I've sort of designated my own area for a garden."

Thorin chuckles. "I do not mind, not at all. You have much... vegetation in your hair, so I assumed..."

"Oh." Bilbo reached with his free hand to ruffle his hair, flushing darkly when petals fell through his fingers.

"Will you stay in Erebor, then?"

Bilbo cleared his throat. "If you will allow me to."

"Of course." Thorin smiles tiredly, looking as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Of course, I am relieved to hear you say that."

Bilbo offers a faint smile, and leans down to press his forehead to Thorin's. "I am glad you are awake." He says quietly.

"As am I." Thorin answers, faintly running the pad of his thumb over the back of Bilbo's hand. "I hold you very dear in my heart, Master Burglar."

"As... as do I." Bilbo answers nervously, but honestly. He hoped Thorin understood what he truly meant.

The Dwarf did, if the squeeze of his hand said anything.

"You should rest." Bilbo says. "You've given us all a big scare."

Thorin chuckles weakly. "You are probably right." He pauses for a moment, reluctant to move. "Will you be here when I wake?"

"If you wish for me to be, then I will." Bilbo says.

Thorin nods, more to himself than to Bilbo. "Alright."

The Dwarf leans back, under Bilbo's watchful gaze, and the Hobbit gently arranges the covers and pillows into a more comfortable arrangement. 

"I shall see you soon." Thorin says, hopeful. 

Bilbo leans down, once again, and presses a soft, lingering kiss to Thorin's forehead. "Get well soon, my King."


	7. Just In Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin keeps an eye on Bilbo as they climb the mountain. Bilbo is not impressed with the icy stairs.

Hobbit feet were not meant for walking on ice, even if said ice was only about two inches thick layered atop of completely stable, intact stone steps. Still, as it was, Hobbit feet were not meant for walking on ice.

Or at least, not Bilbo's.

The cold didn't really bother him. Hobbit feet were notoriously thick-skinned, which made sense, but he found that he just couldn't keep his balance as well as the company of Dwarves could.

He didn't understand why they all had to trek to the top of the mountain. He had enough memories of the frozen waterfall as it was, and he had no desire whatsoever to return. Being sandwiched in between those of the Durin line gave him little choice on the matter, however.

Bilbo could ignore Thorin's gaze warming the back of his neck quite easily. He had no reason to turn around, so keeping his eyes off of the Dwarven King was a simple matter. His nephews were a different story altogether. 

The Hobbit felt his heart jump every time either Kili or Fili suddenly spun around to cheerfully tease him, not only because their personalities often startled him, but because of the possibility of them falling from the stairs.

"Master Burglar, there is no possibility of us falling off the stairs." Fili told him.

"We're much too agile, too steadfast!" Kili joined.

"What are you, bloody elves?" Dwalin jibed from a few paces ahead of them.

Kili scowled. He and his brother continued to chat back and forth in a dizzying way, but Bilbo was more concerned about the steps they were currently dancing across than their teasing statements directed towards him.

"You do not need to be so concerned, Master Baggins." Thorin's deep rumble of a voice mentioned. "These steps are quite safe, though I am sure they are touched by your worry."

"W-well." Bilbo flushed. "I do not trust these steps, not at all. Why, anybody could slip-"

And it just so happened that Fili pushed Kili a little too hard in that moment, and the younger of the two stepped back to regain his balance, effectively knocking Bilbo off his feet. He cried out as he felt his foot slip off the edge of the step he had been about to climb, but as he pitched back a pair of warm, surprisingly thick arms caught him around the waist.

"Fili, Kili!" Thorin barked sharply. "Be careful!"

Kili looked wounded, his eyes wide, wider than Fili's. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to bump you..."

Bilbo suddenly understood what Thorin meant when he said they appreciated his concern. He'd never felt closer to the two brothers.

"No, no, no, it's quite alright." Bilbo waves off Kili's frown with a flip of his wrist. "It was just an accident."

Both brothers reached for a respective wrist of Bilbo's and gently righted him from Thorin's arms. They gave him a once over, and assured that he was perfectly fine, returned to their teasing ways.

Of course, Bilbo's luck seemed to be terribly bad that day, for as soon as he stepped onto the next step he slipped on the ice and toppled backwards.

Once again, Thorin caught him around the waist, and offered him slightly raised eyebrows and a small, teasing smile.

Bilbo flushes all the way up to the tips of his ears. "I- I apologize-"

"Are you perhaps doing this on purpose, Master Baggins?" Fili asks around a snicker.

"O-of course not-!" _Oh, how embarrassing!_

"Move along, you two." Thorin orders, sending his sister-sons into motion even as they shared laughter.

Bilbo wanted to crawl into his bed at Erebor and remain there for a week. 

Thorin allowed the Dwarves behind him to pass quickly as he set Bilbo upright. "Are you well?" He asks.

Bilbo nodded frantically. "Yes, I'm fine, really-"

"Well, I shall walk with you anyway." Thorin gave him a sly smile that set Bilbo's heart aflutter. "Just in case."

The Hobbit couldn't really complain as they completed the journey up the mountain with Thorin's arm held tight around him.


	8. I See Our Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there are scars that not even a King can heal.

Thorin knew Bilbo had been through too much. Hobbits were not meant for adventures, not even Hobbits as brave and truthful as Bilbo Baggins. 

Their relationship had been tumultuous at best, before the Battle of the Five Armies, and before Thorin succumbed to the Gold Sickness. Many times he thought of the first time he laid his eyes upon the Hobbit, and how he doubted him so ferociously. How he had treated Bilbo so coldly, as if he could never care for the Hobbit.

_"I have never been so wrong in my life."_

Those words were the truest he'd ever spoken.

But still, all that had happened... it left deep scars on Bilbo, scars that not even he could reach, no matter how hard he tried. They were not scars that one could heal with a balm, or a whispered Elven spell, or any amount of wealth. Thorin had despaired over it for a very long time, and even now he had moments where those crippling thoughts weighed him down like a great boulder falling atop his shoulders.

After the Battle of the Five Armies, his relationship with the Hobbit healed. His visit to death's doors showed him that remaining cautious and hesitant in life wasted time that could be spent productively. He wished that he could take back all those times he had ever hurt Bilbo. His actions during the Gold Sickness were what kept him up at night, and it took him many weeks before he could bare to touch Bilbo with such treacherous hands, even if it was only to fold Bilbo's small fingers between his palms.

They were better, now. They were. They were getting somewhere, somewhere Thorin could only see peacefulness awaiting.

But Bilbo still had scars, just like he had.

He hated when Bilbo lapsed into silence, because it meant he was thinking of something horrible. Thorin remembered waking during the middle of the first night they shared a bed only to sleep, to find Bilbo seated in front of the small fire that still struggled for life in the fireplace. The Hobbit's eyes were on the fire, and clearly had been for some time - Thorin watched for many minutes, before moving to guide Bilbo back to the bed.

Bilbo hadn't even noticed him. Thorin had slept restlessly that night, but no more so than Bilbo.

Despite all his scars, Thorin treated Bilbo as well as he possibly could. He told Bilbo that he loved him every night, and joined him in Bilbo's garden often... Bilbo had told him that he treated him too well, but Thorin argued that that was not a thing that could possibly exist.

"You have been through so much." Thorin tells Bilbo one night as they sit side by side on a windowsill high in Erebor, looking over the landscape set out before them.

"No less than you." Bilbo answers, and then he turned to look at Thorin.

It was that look that always drew Thorin in. Every time Bilbo turned his gaze to Thorin, no matter the occasion, his little Hobbit's eyes looked at him as if he were the sun. Bilbo's hands wound around his and held Thorin's close to his chest, and Thorin thought that Bilbo may have been the warmest being in all the world, that Bilbo was the sun and not himself-

Their foreheads touched, and Bilbo let out a deep breathe that puffed gently against Thorin's lips. Thorin put an arm around Bilbo's waist and drew him closer, holding onto him tightly, because he was the only thing that kept Thorin from falling into a deep, dark place.

"It's hard." Bilbo whispers.

"It is." Thorin answers. There was no need to specify what "it" was, because Thorin knew what it was - it was restless nights stayed awake watching dying fires, and the first cold trickles of snow that chilled old wounds, and the sound of swords clashing together than brought forth terrible memories, and it was the way the deepest of scars could hide where they could not be healed.

"I love you, Thorin." Bilbo says, closing his eyes. "I do not say it nearly enough, but I do."

"I know." It was all Thorin could say to ease Bilbo's slight trembles. "I love you too."

"I know." Bilbo lowered his head to Thorin's shoulder and turned his body into Thorin's side. "It's getting easier."

"It is."

Bilbo surveyed the landscape. Despite everything, his eyes still sparkled with wonder, as if he could not believe what he was seeing. "To think I would never have seen this if I stayed in the Shire."

"There are many things that could have been avoided if you had stayed."

"Yes, and I would have regretted it for the rest of my life." He said on a sigh, before pressing his lips against the bare skin of Thorin's neck not covered by furs. "I love you."

"I know."

"And I know you love me."

"I do. Very much."

Thorin would say it as many times as he needed. He would spend the rest of his life chasing away the insecurities that irritated Bilbo's scars like salt. He loved his Hobbit more than any treasure that could ever be offered to him. 

"Do you wish to retire to bed?" Thorin asks after several moments of content silence.

Bilbo nods his head, and allows Thorin to lift him to his feet. "I like our bed." 

"As do I."

Bilbo was silent for another moment as they remained by the window, unwilling to leave the peaceful, but careful, air around them. He gripped Thorin's hands a little harder, and looked at Thorin with eyes that told him he was the sun.

Thorin leant down to press a chaste kiss to Bilbo's lips, finally hearing the right kind of sigh that told him the tenseness and insecurities had been bade away from Bilbo's shoulders for tonight. He pressed another kiss to the Hobbit's forehead, lingering a little longer than necessary, before guiding Bilbo by the hand back through Erebor.

Thorin had scars. Scars that you could see, and scars that you couldn't.

Bilbo had scars too. His were harder to find, but Thorin knew where they lay, and he would spend the rest of his life healing them.

He hoped that one day Bilbo would look at him and realise his scars no longer remained.


	9. A Little Too Rough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way Dwarves show affection is very different to what a Hobbit is used to.

Bilbo was very confused. 

He supposed that he should know more about Dwarven customs considering the time he'd spent at Erebor with the company, but this... _this_ left him extremely puzzled.

Two months ago he had consented to a courtship with Thorin, though it had been long in the making - he thought it had taken them too long to finally speak up, but either way he was very happy with Thorin as a partner. 

But being head-butted? Every day?

It was all very confusing. 

Bilbo guessed it was more of a forehead-touch, which he did find endearing, but Thorin was bigger and broader than him, and quite obviously stronger, so the touches came off as a little... painful sometimes, when Thorin was not being extra careful. 

He thought it may have been a thing Dwarves did to show affection - aside from constantly giving handmade jewellery (even though Bilbo protested every time), and spending much time in the morning weaving braids into his hair (he did not protest too much at this... it was rather relaxing), Dwarves were extremely affectionate with their Ones.

Hobbit's approached such relationships differently. While offering gifts was the norm for showing affection to somebody you love, Hobbits instead loved to weave hand-grown flowers into lovely crowns and cook delicious, homely meals and to decorate living quarters together with their partner.

Bilbo was sure he was going to get a bruise one day.

In fact, he was rubbing his forehead gently when Fili caught sight of him.

"Does you head pain you, Master Baggins?"

"Bilbo is just fine." The Hobbit sighed - after being on the journey for so long, it was difficult to break the Dwarves of their habits, including the use of honorifics. "And no, I am alright."

"Are you sure? It looks a little red." Fili frowned, a look that was not suited to him. Away from Kili's cheeky influence, Fili tended to act a little more Kingly... a little. 

"Your Uncle has a hard forehead." Bilbo said offhandedly.

Fili raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile starting to tug at his lips. "Is that so? I never knew Uncle was so affectionate."

Bilbo startled, frowning in confusion. "Is there something I am missing?"

"Well, touching foreheads is a very intimate thing-" Fili says, laughing boisterously as Bilbo started to splutter, "You only do it to those you are completely devoted to! It is a sign that they are very much in love with you. Is it not done in the Shire?"

Bilbo's cheeks flushed. "W-well, not head-butting, per say-"

"Head-butting?" Fili tiled his head to the side. "Oh! Uncle Thorin is being too rough, is that it?"

"A little, p-possibly-"

Fili laughed. "Oh, Kili is going to love this!"

"What is your brother going to love?"

Bilbo jumped again as Thorin appeared behind him. Even though they were not as quiet as Hobbits, Dwarves were still fairly capable of sneaking up on anyone unsuspecting. 

"You show too much affection, Uncle!" Fili said good naturedly. "You're hurting our little Hobbit!"

Thorin frowned, turning to look at Bilbo sceptically. Bilbo avoided his eyes, staring above Fili's head as if there were something deeply interesting there. 

"Fili, go help your brother with his training." Thorin demands.

Fili grins before swiftly exiting the room. 

Thorin gently takes Bilbo's chin between his fingers and draws Bilbo's eyes to his own. "Have I injured you, my love?"

Bilbo would never get used to hearing such endearments - "my love", "my One", "my burglar", they all warmed his stomach in a way that made him want to squirm. "Of course you haven't-"

Thorin reaches up with his free hand to brush the curls away from Bilbo's forehead, and frowns. "Your skin is red."

"It's nothing to worry about. Really."

"I am too rough." Thorin decides, frowning deeper. "I apologize, Bilbo. I never meant to hurt you."

Bilbo sighs, taking Thorin's hand gently and moving it away from his forehead. "Thorin, I know you will never hurt me. But I am not a Dwarf and you are quite... stronger than me." He flushed, an image of Thorin training in a sleeveless tunic rising behind his eyes. _Oh, those arms..._

"Still."

Bilbo shakes his head. "Affection is shown differently in the Shire, so I am not used to your Dwarvish ways. Not to say that I mind them, for I don't- it just takes some getting used to. Understand?"

Thorin observed him for a moment, before nodding, seemingly appeased. "Promise to tell me if I am too rough."

"I promise."

"Good." Thorin chucked him under the chin and pressed their foreheads together. 

"I am not a child, Thorin." Bilbo chuckled as he drew Thorin's hand from under his chin.

Thorin grinned slyly, moving his hands low on Bilbo's waist. "Oh, I know."

"Thorin!"

Honestly, Dwarves were such strange creatures.


	10. A Star Above Your Brow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wonders why a Dwarven coronation is held under the stars. 
> 
> Inspired by [this](http://ewebean.tumblr.com/post/106873946576/thorins-coronation-during-the-night-because-durin)

Bilbo watched as a flurry of movement filled the halls of Erebor. Tonight would be the King's official coronation - well, it would also be his own, seeing as he was Thorin's consort.

He could not help but puzzle over why the coronation would be held at night rather than during the day, when the sun shone bright in the sky. While Hobbits did not have a King or designated ruler, he knew that Men and Elves alike had coronations during the day. He guessed it must have been a Dwarven custom to have them at night.

Still, he was left puzzled and a little lost in thought during the entire day, and it did not go unnoticed. Many times he was asked if he were feeling ill (which he was not) or if he were nervous (which he was, but that was not the cause of his silence).

Before the coronation began, Bilbo had some time to himself to survey the area that had been allocated for the ceremony from a balcony high in the mountain side. It was outdoors - a line of beautiful torches shone bright fires down the aisle, lighting the way for all to see. Bilbo could see a raised podium, and he supposed it was for Thorin and he to stand upon. There were many rows of benches laid out for guests to be seated - not just Dwarves, but even men (including Bard and his children) and Elves (Legolas, Tauriel and surprisingly, Thranduil, as well as their guard) and of course Gandalf the Grey.

"Master Baggins, are you ready to head down?"

Bilbo jumped at the young voice, but it was just Ori standing in the alcove that led to the balcony, dressed in very fine clothing. 

"I apologize, I did not mean to scare you."

"No, no, no, it's quite alright." Bilbo shook his head, and pressed a hand to his heart to still its beating. "I must admit, I'm quite nervous."

Ori smiled. There were youthful qualities to his face that Bilbo thought made him look very wise. "Best to get it over then, is it not?"

"If only it were that simple." Bilbo offered with a tight smile as he followed the young Dwarf down the passageways and out to the courtyard where he would be led down the aisle with Thorin. _If only._

 

Much of the ceremony was spoken in Khuzdul, and despite the fact that Bilbo had been studiously learning it since the moment he decided to live in Erebor, there was much he did not understand.

The Dwarven language, unlike that spoken by Elves, was tough and full of thick pronunciation. Even so, Bilbo thought it was beautiful, in the way even the hardest of mountains would complete a landscape. 

He was more comfortable when the language switched back to one he could understand. It was difficult to understand with Thorin's hands wrapped tight around his - warm, like the sun, and much larger than his own, roughened by battle but ever so gentle with Bilbo's, as if he could break with the simplest touch...

And Thorin gazed at him all the while, as if Bilbo were all he could see, despite the beautiful decorations of the ceremony. 

When it came time for Bilbo to speak his lines he did so with a tremor in his voice. Thorin's presence was demanding, but in his finest clothing, with shining beads woven into braids in his hair and with his eyes alight with the reflection of the stars above him Bilbo thought that nothing could ever be more beautiful. 

Thorin spoke with power, and with dedication. It sent shivers down the Hobbit's spine. 

And then, after the formal words, the crowns were beckoned forward.

Bilbo managed to turn his eyes away from Thorin, only to see Kili and Fili standing at the end of the aisle. Both were dressed as fine as could be, with cushions resting on their outstretched palms. Even from the distance Bilbo could see the glisten of the crowns that sat atop of them.

A soft humming song filled the air as the Dwarves stood, hastily followed by their non-Dwarvish companions. Large drums were played in a soft rhythm that accompanied the song, of which Bilbo was sure were soft words spoken in Khuzdul.

Kili and Fili walked together, their steps evenly paced. Bilbo felt his eyes widen, because it suddenly felt so much more _personal-_

And then the two brothers were there before Bilbo and Thorin, bent on one knee with the crowns held up as an offering. 

The smaller of the two crowns was placed on Bilbo's head. He had been hesitant to accept one when Thorin previously brought it up, because jewels and gold were not quite to his taste... but Thorin hand-forged this one, with only a little help, and Bilbo thought it was simply stunning.

It was thin, and small, made to fit him around the forehead. It appeared to have a golden acorn woven into its centre, flourished with oak leaves. It fit him perfectly, and did not displace a single curl of his hair - he thought that it could not have been any better.

Thorin's was larger, more befitting of a Dwarf, but so beautiful that Bilbo thought it might have been created by Mahal himself.

After the ceremony, when Bilbo and Thorin had been officially joined together as one and as rulers, after they had been congratulated by just about all the guests and the party had been moved inside the mountain for food and drink, Bilbo asked Thorin why the ceremony was held outside.

Thorin took his hand, leading him through the soft grass as they lingered outside for some privacy.

"My dear, do you not already know?" Thorin asks, the smile that had been on his face since the ceremony began still leaving Bilbo breathless.

He shook his head, smiling gently when Thorin's hands lifted to touch his face gently. "Because when Durin stopped and saw his reflection in Lake Mirrormere, he saw a crown of stars."

Bilbo's eyes widened, and he glanced up. His gaze was caught by the reflection of the stars in Thorin's eyes, and in the jewel that sat above his brow in his crown. He found himself nodding, a smile touching his lips. 

He understood now.


	11. A Visit From Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is nervous when the Elves of Middle Earth visit Erebor for a diplomatic visit.  
> He need not be worried.

The Elves were coming for a diplomatic visit.

Elrond and his guard (of which Bilbo only knew Lindir by name), Thranduil and his own guard, with Legolas and Tauriel (of whom had struck up an unlikely fondness for Kili) in tow were invited. They arrived at dusk the next night, ready in time for a great, royal feast befitting for Kings.

Of course Bilbo was a nervous wreck. His betrothal to Thorin, King Under the Mountain, would be announced and he would be presented as a consort for the first time. Him, a Hobbit from the Shire! It was something not even the most adventurous of Hobbits would ever dream of, and yet it was his reality.

He spent many hours labouring in the kitchen, cooking dishes commonly served at Hobbit occasions - mostly sweet dishes of pastry and fruit. The recent spring had brought on a great harvest for his extensive gardens, which many of the Dwarves thought to be a place of fear (as they did not like to eat green things, they said).

Still, Bilbo knew that there must be food for Dwarves and Elves alike, and so he took charge of any food that the Elves would even possibly consider eating. 

He swore the stress of it all would kill him.

 

Not often there were times where Bilbo wished he was back in the Shire instead of Erebor, of which was now his home. Now happened to be one of those times. 

Dwarves were... rowdy eaters, to put it lightly. Elrond had experienced it before, and as such was not too fussed, although Lindir, who was seated beside Bilbo, looked quite pale. 

Legolas took it in stride, though remained safely in the company of Elves, particularly close to his father, who looked extremely put off. Tauriel did not seem to mind at all, and was comfortably seated between Kili and Fili, who looked to be telling a tale of great importance, despite the food that flew past their heads occasionally.

"I do apologize." Bilbo said wearily, wiping food away from the table in front of Lindir. "They are a chaotic bunch, but their hearts are warm and they would not be acting so open if they did not trust in you and the agreements we have forged as races..."

The announcement of his betrothal had gone well, though Bilbo was about ready to pass out. Thorin had taken his hand proudly afterwards, and rewarded him with a sweet kiss that set butterflies off in Bilbo's stomach. 

"It's... quite alright." Lindir says, his hands neatly tucked into his lap. Most all the Elves looked out of place seated at the table, as if they had expected to remain standing throughout the duration of the night. 

"If they get too rowdy do tell me." Thorin says from Bilbo's other side. "Perhaps I should have told them to be more polite."

Despite his words, he looked fondly on his group of friends, a smile touching his face.

"There is no use trying to quell through who wise to display their happiness." Elrond murmurs. "I do not mind. It is the essence of your people."

It was strange wording, but Thorin seemed to take it as a compliment, and nodded his head politely. Bilbo nodded along, though he felt as lost as Lindir looked.

 

The Hobbit could not have been more relieved when the Elves departed for their respective kingdoms. Nothing had gone terribly wrong, their marriage had been announced, and new relations have been forged between the races... Really, it couldn't have been better.

"Are you alright, my love?"

Bilbo startled at the arms that wound above his waist, but settled when he recognised Thorin's scent enveloping him, and the familiar feel of those strong hands pressing into his skin. "I don't think I've ever been more relieved that this is over, actually! There must be more grey in my hair now, and what are we to do with all the leftover food?"

Thorin chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Bilbo's neck, relishing in his Hobbit's little shiver. "I see no grey in your hair, Bilbo Baggins, and even if there were I would continue to love you for all of eternity. As for the food, I am sure it will be eaten quite swiftly."

Bilbo eyed him for a moment.

Thorin laughed. "Yes, even your leafy greens and fruit pastries. No one can defy a stern look from you, Master Burglar." 

Appeased, Bilbo settled into Thorin's embrace, and let out a long breathe. "We can do this... this whole ruling-a-kingdom business." He pauses. "Right?"

"Of course." Thorin noses at his temple, smiling faintly. "I have no doubt."

"None?"

"None."

"Then you are a brave man." Bilbo was smiling teasingly. "And a fool, you stubborn Dwarf."

"Then I am a brave fool." Thorin declares. "But I am a Dwarf who believes in those who choose to follow him, and I am a Dwarf who will forever be in debt to those crazed enough to believe in him in return."

Bilbo felt the tension leave his shoulders. "I think that is a marvellous thing."

Thorin did not answer, but there was no need to. Bilbo was content to remain in his embrace.


	12. A Coldness Is Catching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has not been sick since he was a child, when his mother dutifully took care of him until he regained his heath.

When the seasons change and a chill sweeps down through the mountain accompanied by snowfall and frost that coats every corner, old wounds begin to ache.

Bilbo felt chilled during every winter and autumn he spent in Erebor, as the cold seasons were very different when one was hidden away deep in a mountain. The first had been the most difficult, but he knew that leaving to return to the Shire would be even more so (because then he would be leaving Thorin). 

The Dwarves did not seem as affected by the cold as he was, but that was only to be expected. 

"Are you alright, Master Baggins?" Balin asked as Bilbo shuffled into the common room where most Dwarves gathered after meals and before they retired to bed. 

"I'm alright." Bilbo answers, finding an empty chaise lounge relatively close to the fire to curl up onto. He had the quilt from his bed wrapped around his shoulders to try and fight off the cold.

Balin observed him with wise eyes. "Are you cold, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo nodded his head. It was pointless lying to Balin, he found, because the Dwarf was wise enough to see through it all. He found that Balin was the most willing to listen to him, and offered the wisest council when he was in need of some advice. "Just a little. Erebor is very different to the Shire. It does not nearly snow so hard there, but I suppose this is a mountain, so it is to be expected."

Balin nods. "Have you a fireplace in your room?"

Bilbo nods again. "Yes. It's quite like the one in Bag-End." He chuckles, watching the fire with a content look on his face. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders when he was allowed to stay in Erebor, though he had been shocked when the company at Dwarves chastised at him for thinking they did not wish for him to remain. 

"If you are still cold you should speak to Thorin." Balin says. "He will undoubtedly find you some warmer wear and thicker quilts, if you just ask."

Bilbo flushes at the mention of the great King Under the Mountain. He had recently come to terms with the fact that he harboured deep affections for the King, and was adamant at keeping such feelings a secret. He was sure it would humiliate the King to have one such as himself, a simple Hobbit, lusting after him. Bilbo thought it all to be quite ridiculous, and often wallowed in self-pity at the thought of the stunning Dwarf.

"I'm fine." Bilbo finally repeated, though he really wasn't.

 

Bilbo found himself writhing under his pile of bed sheets well into the next morning as his head throbbed in pain and his shoulder ached with the ghost of an old wound from the Battle of Five Armies (hitting the ground after being toppled over had not been a painless thing).

Hobbit's didn't usually catch cold, so his body wasn't used to the sudden shift as his immune system dipped. He groaned as he shoved his face deeper into the covers, sniffling back anything that threatened to slip out. He remember mentioning to the company that the last time he had caught a cold he was jus a child, and his Mother had dutifully taken care of him until he returned to full health. He wanted to relight the fire in the fireplace than had lessened during the night, but making the trip across the cold room did not seem worth it.

A knock on his door made him groan again.

"Master Baggins, are you awake?" It sounded like Fili, though Bilbo could hear two sets of feet and assumed Kili was not too far behind. They have become insistently inseparable after the Battle of the Five Armies, though no one said a word about it. Bilbo thought it was endearing. 

"I'm... I'm awake." Bilbo said as loud as he could, pulling the covers tighter around him. 

"Bilbo? Are you alright?" Fili sounded worried now, and Bilbo winced. He hated to think he was causing them to worry, when they could be doing something more productive. 

The Hobbit found that he couldn't answer as the urge to sneeze arose, and then frustratingly fell. 

"I'm coming in." Fili announced. The door squeaked open, a quirk of the room Bilbo did not really mind. A moment later, the covers were carefully pulled from his face, and a hand touched his forehead. "Kili, he's burning up."

Fili's hand lifted, and Kili's slightly smaller, slightly softer one took it's place and was accompanied by a startled gasp. 

"I'm going to go get Uncle, you wait here." Fili orders, before he's running from the room.

Kili gently sat on the bed, and pushed Bilbo's hair from his forehead. It was sticky with sweat. "Bilbo? Fili's gone to get Uncle. You'll be alright in no time." 

"It's... It's just a... cold..." Bilbo says breathily, his eyes pinched shut. 

Kili hums in reply, but does not say anything. 

Fili breathlessly enters the room a moment later, followed by a hasty Thorin.

"Bilbo!" Thorin exclaimed, his eyes falling across what was sure to be a horrendous appearance on Bilbo's behalf. "Are you alright?"

Bilbo groans, unable to form words. 

"Fili, Kili, go fetch Oin." Thorin commands, his voice deep and rough with authority that would have sent shivers down Bilbo's spine had he not been otherwise incapacitated. "Tell him to come to my chambers."

The two brothers left the room in a hurry, leaving Thorin with Bilbo.

"My poor burglar, you should have told me if you were unsatisfied." Thorin murmurs quietly. He bends, and Bilbo tenses as Thorin's strong arms wind around him and lift him from the bed, quilt in tow. 

He mumbled something that he hoped sounded like a protest, but Thorin shushed him, and he was oddly reminded of his mother.

"Don't worry Bilbo." Thorin says as he carries Bilbo from the room and into the cold hallway, tightening his arms when Bilbo lets out a violent shiver. "I'll take care of you."

_"Don't worry, my little fauntling. I'll take care of you."_

Bilbo's head rolled back, and he blinked. Her voice felt so real, and so close. Maybe he was delirious. "Mother..." 

 

When Bilbo next awoke, he found himself cushioned in a large, soft bed surrounded by the warmth of delicate quilts and a roaring fire in a close fireplace.

He blinked slowly, allowing himself to comfortably breach the world of wakefulness. When he could see properly, he found that his nose wasn't running and the headache behind his temples was completely gone. 

"Ah, you're finally awake."

Bilbo turns his head to find Thorin seated beside the bed, looking worn out and sleepy. 

"How are you feeling?" Thorin questions, reaching over to press his hand to Bilbo's forehead. His palm was warm, and his fingertips were rough as they traced down Bilbo's cheek absentmindedly. 

"Alright." Bilbo answers, his voice gravelly, as he offers a weak smile. 

Thorin lets out a deep sigh. "You gave me quite a scare, Master Burglar."

"What happened...?"

"You caught quite a nasty cold." Thorin answers, petting Bilbo's hair gently. "You've been restlessly sleeping for nearly two days. Oin gave you some medicine that chased the cold away, but you will be tired until you can regain some energy."

Bilbo nods, and closes his eyes for a moment. "Have you slept at all?"

Thorin startles, before turning his gaze away. "Is it that noticeable?"

"I apologize..."

"What for?"

Bilbo glances around. "I seem to be occupying you're sleeping space." He says. "And I have worried you." He adds. "I'm sorry..."

"Bilbo you are not a burden." Thorin says strongly. "I know that is what you think, but you are not. I worry for you because," He takes a deep, nervous breathe, "because I love you very much, and I do not like to see you troubled."

Bilbo's eyes widen, and gloss over with a sheen of a water. "P-pardon...?"

Thorin grips his hand tightly. "I love you, Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo's throat gets tight, and he finds himself nodding frantically. "I love you too..." He whispers. 

Thorin's smile is like the sun, so warm it gives Bilbo chills. 

Bilbo clears his throat, and flushes. "Will you rest with me?"

"Of course." Thorin pulls off his cloak and his shoes, before sliding into place beside Bilbo. 

He risks turning into Thorin's chest, anxious for an embrace, and lets out a sigh when Thorin's arms come to comfortably rest around his waist. 

"Do you... do you miss your mother? If you do not mind me asking."

Bilbo startles, but relaxes quickly. "Yes, I miss her and father both."

"I'm sure they were lovely people." Thorin says. "To raise one such as you, they must have been very loving."

Bilbo chuckles at the compliment, but nods, and hums in agreement. "Thank you."

Thorin pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. "Rest easy, my Hobbit. I will be here when you wake."


	13. Insecurities Arise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds himself self-conscious after a visit from tall, slender Elves.  
> Thorin is having none of it.

The Elves visited Erebor recently, as well as Men from Lake Town. It wasn't as though Bilbo did not enjoy their company, because he was becoming comfortable acquaintances with many of them, but they left him feeling... _self conscious._

He'd spent all his life around Hobbits, who paid no mind to a bit of roundness around the waist and thighs and thrived off other things instead, such as cooking and gardening and telling stories. Then he'd gone on his adventure with the Dwarves, who while being taller than him did not stand against the tall grace of Elves. The way they floated across the ground and looked down upon him (not that they had much choice, given his inferior height) made Bilbo very nervous.

Oddly enough, it was Kili who first noticed his worry. 

Bilbo was sure that the young Dwarf was too busy entertaining his Elven lady, of whom he had struck a rather unlikely friendship with. Yet Kili had noticed after dinner one night, when half of Bilbo's food was left to be scavenged by hungry Dwarves.

"Has Uncle displeased you?" Kili asked.

Bilbo startled, but shook his head. "No, your Uncle has not." It was not a hidden fact that he and Thorin were in an active courtship, and Bilbo was relieved to know that the two brothers had given their blessing. 

Kili frowned, though it looked more like a frustrated pout. He was attracting Fili's attention with that look, from where the heir of Durin watched his brother across the hall. "Is something the matter, then? Wait, no, something is that matter. What is it?"

"I-it's nothing, really- I really must be going now-"

Bilbo was sure he'd never fled from Kili before, but that night he most certainty did. 

 

Thorin finally cornered him in their shared room when Bilbo said he would wait until Thorin was asleep to join him, citing that he had work to finish and books to read.

"Whatever is the matter, my love?" Thorin coaxed, pulling Bilbo between him and the edge of the bed. "Kili mentioned that you were troubled."

Bilbo shakes his head. "Oh no, no, no, there's nothing the matter-" And of course he was lying, and he knew that he was an absolutely _awful_ liar, and now that the Dwarves knew him better so did they. 

"Bilbo." Thorin stopped his rambling, and pressed his large palms against Bilbo's full cheeks. "I know when there is something that troubles you, and it pains me. I do not wish for you to be displeased in any way."

Bilbo pursed his lips, and tried to stop the tears that threatened to build up. "It's nothing." He mumbles, turning his eyes away from Thorin's searching gaze. "Really..."

Thorin sighs, and takes a seat next to him on the edge of the bed. "Did the Elves say something to displease you?"

"What? No."

"The Men, then?"

"No."

"Dwarves?"

"Not at all-"

"Was it Kili? I know he can be mouthy at times."

"No-"

"Did you eat something displeasing?"

"Thorin-"

"Was it me? Have I displeased you?"

"No!" Bilbo exclaims, before flushing in embarrassment. "No, you are perfect, as always."

Thorin chuckles. "Hardly. If not me, then what has upset you so?"

"It's just..." Bilbo hesitates, and is momentarily thankful that Thorin knows exactly when to force the conversation and when not to. "It's just, having the Elves and Men reminds me so much that we are not alike at all- and I love having them, don't get me wrong, I am still a Hobbit and we are nothing if not obscenely polite. It's just... I'm a Hobbit!"

Thorin looked at him, puzzled. "Yes, you are a Hobbit." He says slowly.

Bilbo's brow furrows. "Yes, and I am not like Elves who are tall, and slender, and very beautiful..." He glances down at himself, and frustrated tears form over his eyes. "I'm a _Hobbit."_

It seems to click in Thorin's head, and the King Under the Mountain briefly looks enraged, and then tender. "Bilbo there is not a single thing about you that I do not desire." He says strongly.

Bilbo turns his head away, but Thorin grips his chin and turns it back. 

"You must know that I love you very dearly, regardless of your race. You love me, do you not?"

"Of course!" Bilbo says, horrified at the thought of Thorin not believing so.

"But I am just a Dwarf." Thorin says. "I am not tall or slender like an Elf, nor am I wise and gentle like a Hobbit. I am a rough, stubborn-headed Dwarf. Does that make you love me any less?"

Bilbo shakes his head, his eyes watering. "No."

"Then you must understand that I love you an all your Hobbit-y traits." Thorin says, stroking his knuckles down Bilbo's cheek. "I love your height, and your little pointed ears, and your Hobbit feet, and I love that you are not sharp and hard but instead soft and gentle. You are perfect for me, you and every inch and pound that you are made up of."

He wipes away the tears in Bilbo's eyes, and presses a soft kiss to his nose. 

"And besides," Thorin scoffs, "Who would want to be an _Elf_ anyway? They probably hit their pretty little heads on tree branches all the time. Such decrepit creatures."

Bilbo laughs quietly, and pulls Thorin into a tight embrace. "Thank you."

"Any time." Thorin whispers into his hair. "I will repeat it over and over until there is not a single thought of doubt in your head."

Bilbo relaxes as Thorin's arms wrap around his waist and squeeze him close. He is startled when Thorin lifts him and moves him deeper into the bed, a sly grin curling at his lips.

"I believe I have a certain Hobbit to ravish." 

"Thorin!"


	14. Ravenous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo decides to cook something new for the Dwarves to try. They are less than pleased.  
> Thorin has a different opinion.

Dwarves did not like to eat things that were green. At all.

Hobbits did.

So when Bilbo moved into Erebor and decided that he would play his part by helping with food (and various cleaning tasks, but the Dwarves valued food over dusted tables and plumped pillow), the Dwarves were in for a bit of a shock.

As a Hobbit, Bilbo was used to cooking meals of large quantities. Despite the fact that he lived alone, he participated in all events that happened in the Shire, like very other Hobbit. That meant cooking enough for several families, not just himself, with enough finesse to compliment all events from weddings, to birthdays, to baby showers.

Much of what he cooked contained high proportions of meat, as per request of the Dwarves. He really couldn't say no when Kili and Fili heaved a giant boar down from the mountains, grinning the widest grins as they showed off their proudly. Though he didn't actively participate in the dismembering of the animal (because that was far out of his skill range) he was positive that he could make something they would love with whatever he was given.

He quickly found that there were no vegetables for him to cook with. It was a purposeful thing, the lack of vegetables, but he took to planting edible foods in his garden rather quickly, and was immensely pleased when they were harvestable. 

This night he had said he would cook all by himself, without the help of another few Dwarves who took turns aiding him. He had much spare time tonight, as Ori was busy and could not make it to their usual literacy lesson (the young thing had taken very well to literature lessons from Bilbo, and loved to learn how to write and read at an expert level).

The meal he made was rich with vegetables, though he included meat to please the Dwarves. He had spent the morning kneading dough and baking it into bread that would do his mother proud. 

He was laying down his loaves of bread on the table when the Dwarves bustled in, their clothes covered in dirt, but their hands clean, as per Bilbo's request every evening. Bilbo straightened, retracting his hands from the tray with a pleased little smile. 

The Dwarves quietened at the sight of their meal, and took their seats with hushed, confused mutters.

Thorin sat at the head of the table, next to the seat he had assigned Bilbo all those months ago.

"What is this?" Kili questions, frowning at a leafy green on the platter in front of him. He almost had a sneer in his voice, though Bilbo had expected that. A round of other questions ensued, so many that Bilbo was unsure as to who spoke what, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Supper." He says, before rolling off a list of what he had made in order of the way they were placed on the table. "And finally, the Baggins's family bread. It's a secret recipe." He finishes proudly.

There was silence for a moment, before an outburst of angry cries startled Bilbo.

"This isn't Dwarf food!"

"It's food for those mangy Elves, it is!"

"I don't eat green food..."

"We can't eat this!"

"But you haven't even tried it-" Bilbo starts, his hands twitching nervously.

"It'll probably taste like dirt."

"Is this edible?"

"Where is the meat!"

"I-if you don't want to eat it," Bilbo says loudly, "then fine. It's not like I spent... _hours_ cooking this anyway. It's just Hobbit food, right? There should be enough meat..." He looks down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. He'd only wanted to cook a nice meal, and it reminded him so much of home that he wanted to smile, but they didn't like it.

"Quiet." Thorin growled over the noise. "Master Baggins put a lot of work into cooking for us, and you are smiting him! Do you intend to waste all his hard work because you are all too stubborn to try something new?" 

Bilbo stares at the King with wide eyes, which widen even further when Thorin takes a forkful of vegetables from a nearby tray and confidentially eats them. 

Thorin's eyes hardly widen, but Bilbo sees some sort of reaction, before the Dwarf turns to him. "It tastes delicious, Master Baggins. I'll have you cook this more often, after tonight!"

Bilbo felt as if there were a bird in his chest, spreading its wings as wide as they could go. He nods several times, offering Thorin a grateful look.

"Well, if Uncle says it's nice, it must be." Fili decides, taking something for himself and Kili, despite his brother's queasy expression. 

Bilbo hadn't felt so homely in a while, but seeing the entire company begrudgingly try and actually eat food that was not just meat made him want to cry for joy. His attention was attracted by Thorin, who motioned him over.

"Do you really like it?" Bilbo asks quietly, tension melting from his shoulders as the normal chatter and chaos of dinner leaks into the room like a welcome burst of heat. 

Thorin nods, slipping his arm around Bilbo's waist and quickly jerking the Hobbit from his feet and onto his knee. "Yes, my darling Hobbit. I am surprised, this Hobbit food of yours is wonderful! Why have you not cooked it sooner?"

Bilbo flushes right up to the tips of his pointed ears, both from his sudden seat in Thorin's lap and from the endearments the rough Dwarf used. He would never get used to the feeling it spread through his chest. "Because I was unsure if the company would like it."

Thorin glances around. The others were eating as they usually did, but now Bilbo's food was accompanying the meat. "I think your vegetables have gone down well."

Bilbo couldn't help but grin. "I'm glad."

Thorin smiled, and nosed at Bilbo's cheek. "I am happy to see you so joyful. Does cooking really please you so?"

Bilbo hummed in thought. "Not so much the cooking, as the eating. Meals are usually shared with large families among Hobbits, and it's been just me for so long - I enjoy eating meals with such a large group, it's wonderful. My mother was also a splendid cook, taught me everything I know. She always said that the secret to living happy was eating happy."

Thorin chuckled.

Bilbo flushed, embarrassed, and hid his face in Thorin's neck. The Dwarf's hair was pulled into a low ponytail, but it tickled his nose faintly. 

"Shall we eat your special bread, then?" Thorin asks, running his fingers up and down Bilbo's spine, pleased that the Hobbit had not requested to return to his proper seat. "Before my nephews devour it all, that is."

Bilbo laughed (drawing the attention of many Dwarves who had not heard him laugh so, and smiled at seeing the Hobbit with their King) and settled further into Thorin's chest.

He thought that maybe he should cook more bread next time, so that Kili and Fili did not hoard it on their plates like ravenous monsters. 

The bread was soon a favourite, requested at every meal.


	15. Dandelion Seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbits value dandelions highly.  
> Dwarves think they are mere weeds.

Hobbits liked dandelions. The yellow florets that appeared with the changing of the seasons and the hundreds of white seed heads that otherwise occupied the stem were simply wonderful. 

Not to mention they could be brewed with other herbs to become delicious tea...

Bilbo personally liked his with mint, or orange when the seasons permitted, and he always mixed in a large spoonful of honey to sweeten the blend. 

Dwarves did not like dandelions.

When the dandelions came into bloom near Erebor for the first time, Bilbo had discovered that the Dwarves thought of them as weeds - _weeds!_ His precious dandelions! It was atrocious, and he sincerely hoped the look he shot at them conveyed that. 

Still, he did not let their dubious nature stop him from enjoying the little plants. They may have been weeds in the eyes of the Dwarves, but to Bilbo they were simply golden. 

Of course the teasing got to him a little, and often he retreated into the small, closed off field were the most dandelions bloomed with a cup of tea clutched between his hands. 

He had to remind himself that he was a Hobbit, not a Dwarf, and that there were certainly going to be barriers between the two species where he would have no support to back himself up. When he found a Dwarven custom strange, there were many willing to tell him why it was normal, but he found that explaining his own cultural quirks was somewhat more difficult when Dwarves were laughing at him for having "weed tea".

The sun was making a marvellous appearance today as Bilbo sat at the base of a tall tree, resting in its shade, cushioned by thick grass. He drew his knees closer to his chest, blowing on the teacup in his hands as he wiggled his toes into the ground. 

Sometimes he missed the Shire. He didn't miss the loneliness of living by himself, because Hobbits were really meant to live with large families, but he missed the openness. He missed his gardens and his vegetables and he missed the summer breeze that would navigate the maze of Bad-End in the summer.

There were no breezes deep in the halls of Erebor.

Returning to the surface only gained him ridicule from the Dwarves, who did not understand. He knew they meant no harm, because they all had warm hearts deep down somewhere, but it still left him feeling hollow.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, resting his teacup on his knees as he tilted his head back. The breeze ruffled his hair and tickled his sensitive ears, but it felt lovely.

"Master Baggins?"

Bilbo startled at the voice, almost spilling his tea, but it was only Thorin. 

"Sorry, I did not mean to startle you." Thorin apologized.

"No, no, no, it's quite alright." Bilbo said. "I was lost in my own world for a moment there."

Thorin's lips twitched in something reminiscent of a smile. He seemed to struggle with something for a moment, before squaring his shoulders. "May I sit with you?"

"Of course." Bilbo says, surprised that he was asked permission. The Dwarf was more of a "do now, apologize later" kind of person, rather than being the "ask now, do later" kind.

Thorin sat beside Bilbo under the tree, and slowly relaxed. "The Dwarves... they do not mean to insult you." Thorin edges carefully.

Bilbo sighs, glancing down at his teacup. "I suppose I am rather transparent, aren't I? Do not worry, I take no harm from their ridicule."

Thorin frowns. "I will ask them to be more considering." He offers.

Bilbo tries not to frown. "I'm not a Dwarf, Thorin." He says. "I am a Hobbit, and the things I consider normal are so foreign among Dwarves that it is only natural they mock it."

"But they are your traditions." Thorin argues. "Your heritage, your culture. It is distasteful and disrespectful to mock such things of someone we are so close to, and someone we owe so much to."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you everything." Thorin places a strong hand on his shoulder. "I do not think I would be alive if it were not for your bravery up on Ravenhill. You played a very important role in the recovery of Erebor and the journey to here."

Bilbo offered a weak smile. "I would appreciate it... if it were at all possible, that you might ask them to s-stop calling it... _weed tea?"_

Thorin chuckled, a rare sound that made goosebumps appear across Bilbo's arms. "If you so desire."

"Thanks." Bilbo relaxed against the tree, watching the field of dandelions sway in the gentle breeze. 

"What makes dandelions so important, to Hobbits?" Thorin says. "If you do not mind me asking."

Bilbo smiled, and lifted the cup to his lips for a moment. "They're pretty, don't you think?"

Thorin nods, looking a little puzzled.

"Dandelions hold no real significance, really... they're used for everything. They grow thickly in all parts of the Shire, so they're often weaved into crowns, or placed in a bouquet on the kitchen table or desk, or used for other decorative purposes."

"Crowns?" Thorin questions. Bilbo felt a warm thrum shiver down his body at the open look of honest curiosity on Thorin's face.

Instead of dwelling on that startling attractive look, he nods. "Yes, mostly for wedding purposes - we don't have Royalty in the Shire. Sometimes family names plays a part in the hierarchy - the Tooks are a wild bunch, for example, not the most considerate though they mean no harm."

Thorin chuckled, and Bilbo took another sip of his tea.

"Flowers in general are used among Hobbits very much. Everyone grows a garden - bright, blossoming flowers are a sign of good Hobbits, and everyone knows the meaning of every flower so that they may offer them to convey a certain meaning, like courting or to wish someone well, for example. Flowers are weaved into crowns for weddings, to signify the bride and groom, and are tied with ribbons. Dandelions often line the crown, so that when the couple dance the seeds fly off and signify their transition from two separate individuals, to one family unit."

"That sounds lovely." Thorin says. "It must be a sight to behold."

Bilbo nods. "It is! It's just lovely. My mother always said that a Hobbit who offers the right flowers with the right words is a Hobbit to keep." He chuckles.

"Is that so?" Thorin murmurs, though Bilbo hardly hears him.

"As for food, Dandelions are also the most popular tea blend." He holds up his cup. "Good for any occasion, and great for health purposes. It can be mixed with just about anything to strengthen the taste."

"And what do you favour?" Thorin asks.

"Mint." Bilbo answers. "I used to grow mint in my garden, near the front right next to the paisley. Oranges are just as good, too; my neighbour had the largest orange tree and many would fall into my yard that I was allowed to keep."

For a moment he was lost in the memory, and he could vividly remember the smell of the oranges as he washed them in his kitchen sink.

"But oranges or mint aren't for everyone." Bilbo continues. "Others love using lemon, and raspberries are always popular. But," He turns his eyes up to Thorin, his mind lost in the world of teas and Hobbit cuisine, "dandelion tea is only perfect with a teaspoonful of honey mixed in. Sugar can be used, but honey is pure goodness."

"May I try some?"

Bilbo's eyes widen, and he tries not to flush, but he offers the cup anyway. "If you want to."

Thorin's hands wrap around Bilbo's and carry the cup to his lips. Bilbo turns red, but makes no move to draw his hands away. 

"It is delicious." Thorin smiles warmly, his thumbs absentmindedly drawing lines down the back of Bilbo's hands. 

Bilbo smiles gently, and allows Thorin to lean against him (though, due to his small stature, it was more like he leaning against the Dwarf). "I can make more, next time. Perhaps you might enjoy it with mint."

Thorin chuckles. "Perhaps I might."

"Thank you for listening to me." Bilbo says quietly. "I did not expect you to enjoy hearing about Hobbits so much."

"I quite enjoyed it!" Thorin exclaims brightly, taking advantage of Bilbo's brief moment of shock to slip his arm around the Hobbit. "Hobbit's are such interesting people, I would like to know more, if you are willing."

"Who am I to refuse the great King Under the Mountain?" Bilbo laughs quietly, before draining the remainder of his tea. "But, still, thank you. I do not think I would have remained in Erebor if it were not for you-" And upon realising just exactly what he was saying, the Hobbit suddenly cut himself off and turned redder than ever before.

But Thorin was smiling, a soft look that made Bilbo feel like he was melting in the sheets of his bed at the Shire. The Dwarf lifted a hand and gently touched Bilbo's cheek, his eyes warming even further when Bilbo softened into the touch. 

"I am glad you are here." He says. "And if it is because of me, I am even gladder."

Bilbo assumed it was meant to be a confession - either way, he got the message, and leant into the embrace Thorin offered. A comfortable silence settled over them, disturbed by nothing but the breeze that ruffled the leaves of the tree above them. Bilbo thought he had never felt so close to Thorin before.

It was a feeling he could get used to.

"Shall we head inside?" Thorin finally asks, standing and gently lifting Bilbo to his feet.

Bilbo nods. "I think I will make more tea." He says.

"For two?" Thorin gives him a hopeful look. Bilbo was again struck by the raw honesty Thorin exuded, and how the King's curiosity made him feel so... appreciated. It made his heart flutter in his chest, like a newly awakened bird spreading its wings. 

"For two." He agreed.


	16. A Moment Sooner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is accidentally captured by Orcs while away from Erebor.  
> Thorin is not happy.

Bilbo had been away from the Lonely Mountain when it happened.

He was not that far, not really - he had Kili with him, "for protection" the Dwarves told him. The Hobbit really couldn't protest when Kili had turned to him with the proudest look on his face, as if to say _"look at me, I am good enough to protect you"._ Bilbo hadn't thought he wasn't, but he assumed it was some Dwarven custom or right of passage or something of the like that he had no hope of understanding, so he set off with the Dwarf in tow.

There weren't many wild plants that grew around Erebor, so he often had to leave to find sprouts and seeds to transplant into his garden. He had thought this trip would be no different. 

That is, until the Orcs showed up.

There were not many of them, no more than two dozen, but even a warrior as great as Kili could not fend them off for more than a moment. And Bilbo, who was unarmed, was of no help - he could only hope that Kili was not harmed as he was hit so hard across the head that his vision went dark.

 

Realistically, Bilbo realised he should have taken a weapon of some sort with him. Orcs were by no means intelligent, but for what they lacked in brains they made up with pure brute force. He didn't even have a small blade to cut through the crudely tied ropes binding his arms behind his back.

Thankfully, the Hobbit found that he had been thrown into the same dark, damp room as Kili. 

"Kili!" He hissed, wiggling himself up to his knees to crawl to the Prince's side. "Kili, wake up!"

The Dwarf groaned and Bilbo winced as the sound echoed around the room. 

"Shh!" Bilbo whispered, nudging Kili with his elbow. "Wake up, we're trapped."

"Uncle is going to kill me..." Kili whines, groggy. 

"No he's not." Bilbo says. He watched critically as the Dwarven Prince heaved himself upright, slightly relieved to see that the Dwarf had received no wounds in the brief struggle. 

A loud roar has Bilbo jumping. The sound was clearing made by an Orc - it seemed to vibrate through the stone beneath him. Faintly, he could hear the sound of blades clashing, and he thought it might have been the Dwarves.

"Do you hear that?" Kili breathes, eyes blown wide.

Bilbo nods. "Do you think that's the company?"

"I don't know." Kili says. He started to twist his arms to release the ropes, but they were tied tighter than Bilbo's were, and he could not get his hands free. The sounds of battle cries soon joined the mix - Bilbo couldn't make out voices, they were too faint. "I hope so. I don't know if I can get out of these, and I don't know where those bastards took my weapons."

Bilbo frowns, and opens his mouth to reply, but heavy footfalls storming down the hallway make him seal his lips. 

Kili moves to put himself in front of Bilbo, but the Hobbit shoulders his back with a sharp glance. If the prince were to die, more than just the Dwarves would mourn. Bilbo did not think he could live with himself if he survived because Kili was trying to protect him - it simply did not make sense in his mind.

A tall, bulking figure appeared in the doorway, and pushed the metal gate open with a shoulder that must have been the size of Bilbo's waist. The Orc glanced down at them, and grinned - teeth and drool and a foul puff of breath that smelt just as hideous as it looked.

Bilbo pushed back against Kili as the Orc stepped closer, raising the crude blade in its grip. 

And then it stopped, it's body jolting forwards as its eyes rolled back into its misshapen head. The tip of a very familiar blade poked through the centre of its chest; Bilbo hadn't felt such a crushing feeling of relief in a very long time.

"Bilbo! Are you alright?" Thorin demands, wrenching his blade back to kick the falling Orc aside. 

There stood the King of the Mountain, covered in the blood of his enemies with enough rage in his eyes to scare away even the strongest of foes.

"Don't worry about me, Uncle. I'm perfectly fine." Kili snorted, thrashing in his restraints again. He looked very fidgety, and Bilbo figured that he had not remained in one position for so long in many years.

Thorin stalked forward, and despite his ferocity, gently lifted Bilbo to his feet to cut away his restraints. Bilbo winced, drawing in a silent breath as the rope left his wrists. There were deep red marks that stung his skin faintly.

Thorin growled at the sight of them.

Another Dwarf moved into the room from behind Thorin. It was Fili, who instantly moved to his brothers side to cut away the ropes binding him. Bilbo watched them for a moment, but the look of intensity Fili gave Kili was one that made him feel like he was intruding.

Instead, the Hobbit turned his gaze up to Thorin. "Thank you." He whispers.

Thorin brushes his hair away from his forehead, and lays a gentle kiss to the bare skin presented. "You do not know how you worry me, my little Hobbit. I am glad you are safe."

Bilbo leaned into Thorin's touch, and strategically ignore the pungent scent of blood and sweat. He just wanted to go home.

 

After being bathed meticulously by an overprotective Thorin (despite protests that he could do it himself just fine) and after being tended to and bandaged by Oin, Bilbo was finally allowed to rest in their room.

Thorin refused to leave his side, and although Bilbo did not mind, he felt increasingly awful for having worried Thorin into such a state. 

"Are you comfortable?" Thorin demands, his hands worrying over the quilt that rested across Bilbo's lap.

"Yes, I'm fine-"

"Are you sure? I can find a better quilt, or get you other sleepwear-"

"Thorin." Bilbo says, reaching to grip Thorin's hand between his own. "I am perfectly fine. Will you lay with me?" He asks. He could see Thorin wrestling with succumbing to Bilbo's request or continuing to fuss over him, and the Hobbit could see the latter was winning. "Please." He adds.

Thorin sighs, immediately defeated. "I can never say no to you, my dear." 

Bilbo waited patiently until Thorin had changed into night wear and crawled into bed beside him. He sighed when Thorin laid his head on Bilbo's chest, and tucked his arms around Bilbo's waist. 

"I am fine, Thorin." He gently ran his fingers through Thorin's hair, which was still faintly damp from his bath. "Honestly." 

"I cannot help but think about what would have happened if I had been a moment later." Thorin whispers hoarsely, his arms tightening.

Bilbo rested his cheek atop of Thorin's head, and gently rubbed the space behind the Dwarf King's ear. It was something his mother always did to calm him down, and more often than not it worked. "But you were not late, and I am fine, and Kili is fine." He says. "It is wrong to think either of us will never again be in danger, but better to think that we will always save each other from harm."

Thorin chuckled roughly. "What a strange way of thinking. If I could, I'd have you locked away in Erebor where I know you would be safe."

"Yes, but you know that is not what I wish, and I am very thankful that you allow me my freedom. It is more than I could wish for." He says. "My home is here in Erebor, with the company, and with _you,_ Thorin. I do not wish to ever leave."

Thorin let out a deep breath, tension melting from his body as he let his eyes slip shut, lulled by the gentle throbbing of Bilbo's heart. "I love you."

"And you know I love you even more."

Thorin swatted at him for his playfulness, and pulled Bilbo down to lie safely tucked in his arms. "Sleep now, my Hobbit. Another adventure awaits us."


	17. Distemper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo have their first real argument. Bilbo finds out why Hobbits do not get angry.

Bilbo wasn't the type of person to get angry. 

He supposed it was a Hobbit thing. No Hobbit ever really got angry - frustrated, yes, and irritated, yes, but never _angry._ Hobbits exercised extreme politeness and subtle barbs that, if successful, could divert a conversation away from something unfavourable. 

Dwarves were kind of short-tempered, he found. Some more so than others, but as a whole, he found that Dwarves were quick to yell and rage to get their point across. Most of the time it was never done in spite, and there were often no hard feelings after the debate had been resolved, but it still shocked him. Dwarves did not like to be told they were wrong if they believed otherwise. 

Bilbo's first real argument with Thorin was a shock to his system; he could, in fact, get angry. 

He couldn't even remember what had started the argument, but it was in front of half the company, including Kili and Fili, who seemed shocked at their Uncle's behaviour.

Bilbo could understand why Hobbits never got angry. They were _awful_ at it. 

The argument spiralled out of his control very quickly, and his voice was raising to try to compete with Thorin's until his throat started to ache and his words got croaky. He started to cry; eyes red and cheeks wet, full of hiccups and clenched fists as the anger sizzled in his veins like a pain he'd never felt before.

He didn't like feeling angry, especially not at someone he loved so much. Eventually he went silent, lips pressed tight together to bare away the taste of tears on his tongue. He stared defiantly at Thorin until the stubborn King noticed his silence and finally looked at him.

"Bilbo..." Thorin edged.

Bilbo huffed around a hiccup, and stormed from the room. 

"What is all that racket- Oi!" Dwalin stumbled as Bilbo pushed past him, and with a growl grabbed Bilbo by the arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Let me go!" Bilbo snarled (well, as best as he could with his eyes wet and his face flushed) as he wrenched his arm away. 

He just wanted to hide.

 

As it turned out, hiding worked for a little while. He went to the one place he was sure Thorin would not come looking for him; the treasure room, where piles of gold filled every crevice and a great dragon had once slept. 

Eventually his hiccups and sniffles stopped, and even though his sleeves were soaked, he was glad he had stopped crying. The noises he made echoed terribly, and he did not like to hear it. 

He found himself sitting under one of the pillars of a buried platform, where he had hidden from Smaug on their first meeting. Bilbo wondered if Thorin would ever think to come here, if he were looking for Bilbo at all. 

He amused himself by stacking the coins in towers around him, neatly and evenly, and he found that it was very therapeutic even if he did not like the feeling of gold in his hands. The repeated action of lifting a coin and carefully balancing it helped calm him. 

Some time had passed, and Bilbo thought that Thorin may not have been looking for him at all - until he heard Thorin running into the room, desperately calling his name.

For a moment, he felt sick with guilt, but that feeling quickly passed. "I'm here." He calls as he carefully completes another tower. 

He hears Thorin clambering over the gold, and sees as loose coins come tumbling down the great pile. He himself disliked walking over the gold, so he made no complaints as a coin knocked over one of the further towers. 

"Bilbo." Thorin breathed. "Are you alright?"

The Hobbit nods, and dabs at the corners of his eyes one last time for good measure. "I'm fine." He says. "I'm sorry. I don't even know what we argued over..."

Thorin sighs, and moves to sit by his side. "Whatever it was, it was most likely not your fault. It should be me who is apologizing." He says. "I'm sorry."

Bilbo leaned across to rest his head upon Thorin's shoulder, and was comforted when Thorin's fingers automatically reached up to slide through his curls. "I think we are both at fault." He says quietly. "I... I've never acted like that before. I'm so ashamed." He pushed his face into his hands and tries to hold back the tears that burned behind his eyes.

Thorin sighed again, and rests his cheek against Bilbo's temple. "There is no reason to be. I am just as ashamed of my actions, if not more so. Can we put it behind us?"

Bilbo nods without hesitation. He had forgiven Thorin almost as soon as he stormed from the room. The thought of losing Thorin, with memories of Ravenhill like poison in his mind, made him reluctant to harbour ill feelings towards the Dwarf. 

"Thank you, Bilbo." Thorin says. "I do not know what I did to deserve one as forgiving and kind as you. Mahal knows I do not deserve it."

Bilbo gripped Thorin's free hand tightly. "I've never been angry before." He says.

"Never?" Thorin's eyebrows raise.

"Never." Bilbo confirms. "Hobbits... we don't really get angry. There is no reason to be, and if you do, then you're probably a Took." He says with a little laugh.

Thorin laughed too, though he probably did not understand why. "Well, I wish to never anger you again." He says. "I do not like seeing you so upset. Dwarves get angry often, though-"

"But they do not hold grudges." Bilbo says. "Not like Hobbits, no, Hobbits quietly simmer away for years. Dwarves forgive and forget."

"You're very perceptive."

"I live with Dwarves." He says teasingly. "As a Hobbit, I notice these things."

Thorin chuckles, and presses a kiss to Bilbo's forehead. "Still, let's promise never to get angry at one another again." He says. "We will always talk it out."

"I promise." Bilbo smiles faintly. He had never been gladder that Thorin had turned out surprisingly thoughtful, and extremely considerate to the point of Hobbit-level politeness. 

He stands, and offers a hand to help Thorin to his feet, though the Dwarf did not need the help. Bilbo took a moment to admire Thorin's added height over him, before giving Thorin a look that made the Dwarf stare at him, puzzled. 

"Want to help me push over these towers?" The Hobbit asks, light dancing in his eyes.

Thorin grins widely. "My dear, it would be my pleasure."


	18. There Is A Sickness In Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One cannot suffer without impacting the other.

After the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo had made his home in Erebor. His possessions had been brought back by kind Dwarves that had passed through the Shire on the way to Erebor, but had since left the mountain. 

His courtship with Thorin had been very rocky and hesitant at first - he could hardly stand to look at Thorin in the eyes, and it had taken months for the Dwarf to be healed enough to leave his bed. 

Now though, they were better. Erebor was prospering under Thorin's command, and relations with the Men and Elves alike were finally beginning to flourish. Bilbo had his garden, and an armchair big enough for two in front of the fireplace in the room he shared with Thorin.

Most of the time, he was a content Hobbit.

Sometimes, he wasn't.

Tauriel said he suffered from separation anxiety, brought on by the stress of the traumatic battle. The Elves were more adapt at mind healing than Dwarves, but even she could not fix his problem. He rationalised that he was naturally an anxious person, always worrying over things.... but maybe it had become a little worse after the battle, and only because he got anxious over Thorin.

It wasn't too bad, really. He just didn't like not knowing where Thorin was, or going hours without seeing the stubborn Dwarf. Thorin knew of his problem, but didn't see him as any less because of it, because Thorin disliked having Bilbo away from him for too long as well, but he didn't get anxious over it like Bilbo did.

Thorin hadn't been the one that had to hold their partners hand as they thought their partner was taking their last breathes.

Every time he realised he did not know where Thorin was, or how long he estimated Thorin would be gone, all he could think of was that Thorin would never be coming back. That thought terrified him more than anything; he'd rather take on a raging dragon again, because he knew he could at least survive that.

Sometimes it wasn't so bad. The two of them had created a routine that satisfied them both, and kept them from being separated for more than a few hours at a time. Bilbo was glad that his Dwarf was so responsive and considerate, more so than one might imagine. 

There were times, though, that still sent Bilbo spiralling into a whirlwind and self-depreciative thoughts and fast-paced breathing, leaving him lightheaded and teary. He hated feeling like that; so vulnerable, so weak.

Sometimes, however, the world didn't work the way he wished for it to and he found himself driven into a situation he had no control over.

It wasn't that Thorin was late - there wasn't really a set time for them to meet up, but it was assumed they'd see each other at supper (which was at the usual pre-determined time, since Bilbo was often the one who made the meal itself). 

He knew that when Thorin didn't arrive it was most likely due to business. There had been meetings all day for the past week and a half - they'd barely had time to see each other at luncheon, when Bilbo's anxiety needed a little cooling off. He disliked feeling so needy, but he'd been getting better, he knew he was. He didn't panic when Thorin wasn't beside him in the bed when he woke, and he didn't freeze in his spot when Thorin was late because of outside forces.

He was getting better, but setbacks were never welcome.

Despite the tightness in his chest, he waited patiently as dinner continued, and dutifully ignored the worried looks from Ori, who no matter how hard he tried could not engage Bilbo in their usual dinner conversation. Bilbo made sure he ate enough so that he would not feel hunger later, but he couldn't finish everything on his plate.

He reasoned with himself that Thorin was probably caught up in meetings and Kingly work, and that it was unreasonable to think that they would always be able to stick to such a tight schedule. He was sure that having a little irregularity would be for the best for him in the long run; he couldn't always expect Thorin to be able to tend to his every wish and need. 

He retired to their room not long after that, and sat curled up on their armchair after fixing to the fire. It's warmth did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest, but he did his best to control his breathing and the shaking of his hands. 

There was no conceivable way for Thorin to get injured while in the mountain. Bilbo didn't think any of the visiting foreign dignitaries were particularly dangerous, or at least he had heard nothing of that sort being whispered among the Dwarves. They could gossip almost as well as Hobbits, it the right situation arose.

But when an hour managed to slowly tick past, Bilbo just knew something wasn't right. 

He pressed a hand over his heart as he leant over his knees. He felt sick to his stomach, like he was about to throw up over their nice rug, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wouldn't (at least, not yet). With the edge of his sleeve, he dabbed at his eyes, though he wasn't crying.

It took him a few moments, but eventually he was composed enough to stand and exit the room in search of Thorin. His legs shook terribly, and he had a hand on the wall to help him balance, but he had to find Thorin.

Kili found him only a few minutes later. Bilbo expected a teasing joke and an excited yell of "Master Boggins" because the young Dwarf still sometimes mispronounced his name, but instead Kili was by his side in an instant with his arm around Bilbo's waist.

"Are you alright?" Kili demands, heaving Bilbo upright. "What happened?"

"Where... where is your Uncle?" Bilbo tries to offer a weak smile, but he thinks it comes out as more of a grimace.

Kili frowns, and for a moment is completely silent. "He was in a long meeting earlier, but I thought he went to see you."

Bilbo lets out a soft, pained moan. Dread filled his veins like a poison, and all he could see was Thorin lifeless and pale, drained of blood and covered in battle wounds, lying in his arms. It was like the ice of Ravenhill has permeated into his skin. 

He wrenched free from Kili's grip and made his way down the hallway swiftly, breathing hard enough for the sounds to echo off the stone walls that suddenly felt too close and too narrow. He could hear Kili shout after him, but the Dwarf sounded so far away that Bilbo wondered if a rift had suddenly split the stone between them. 

He was back in his room faster than he liked to imagine. He made sure the door was shut tight behind him before collapsing in front of the fire still burning in the fireplace, and shoved his achingly cold hands at it. Wretched thoughts of Ravenhill and sharp blades and the smell of old blood mingling with fresh wounds plagued his mind and no matter how close he got to the fire it's heat wouldn't melt away the terror fresh in his veins.

He didn't want to think Thorin was hurt, or injured, or anything- anything but safe and healthy and _with him._

He was shaking and crying and clutching his arms tight enough to bruise when Thorin finally burst through the heavy door and into the room.

"Bilbo!" The Dwarf was breathing hard, and his warm weight settled over Bilbo's back as those large hands pried away Bilbo's smaller fingers from his arms. "Bilbo, I'm here, I'm alright. Do you hear me?"

He couldn't reply. His mouth was too open, trying to suck in enough oxygen to fill his bloodstream.

Thorin's shaky sigh was breathed into his curls as those muscled arms wound around his shoulders and pulled him close. "Shh." Thorin whispered as he stroked a hand down Bilbo's back, from his shoulder to the bottom of his spine. "I'm alright, you're alright, just breathe, okay? Can you do that for me, Bilbo?"

Bilbo nodded frantically, and sucked in a deep breathe before letting it out to the rhythm that Thorin stroked his back. "I'm sorry." He gasped as his trembles died down. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Thorin nuzzled his strong nose against Bilbo's cheek, paying no mind to the tears that left dry streaks across his flushed skin. "It's not your fault, Bilbo." He says, pressing a tender kiss to his lips as he did so. His touch helped ease Bilbo's worry, helped calmed his erratic heart, and his welcomed kiss breathed warmth into Bilbo like nothing else. "Are you alright?"

Bilbo nodded, but he wasn't alright. 

There was a sickness in him that he didn't know how to cure.


	19. A Friend Among Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a trip to Mirkwood for Bilbo to discover the truth about Thorin and his feelings.

Sometimes Bilbo dreamed of living in the Shire again. He dreamt of his garden, mostly, and sometimes he dreamt that he was living with his parents and his cousins and even his grandparents, whose faces he could no longer recall.

It wasn't home sickness. He didn't want to return to the Shire permanently, there was no possible way he could be content to live out his life there. Not after what had happened.

Not after Thorin Oakenshield.

The Hobbit wasn't used to feeling this kind of affection for another person, let alone a person of such great importance as the King Under the Mountain. Hobbits were not creatures of great sentiment, but then again, he was no longer just a simple Hobbit.

He knew that he had no right to think of Thorin like that, not after all the things he had done wrong. His lies, his betrayal, his failures, they all haunted his dreams and coloured the spaces under his eyes dark. They made him shake and tremble under the gaze of the Dwarves, of whom he thought he might have once been friends with.

But they blamed him, he could see it in their eyes. He'd failed the King, and he'd failed the Princes, and now they were bedridden with injuries that they might not survive.

It was like a poison, those thoughts, those memories. They flooded his bloodstream and clouded his thoughts and sometimes he buckled under the weight of them so hard his knees bruised.

So when the opportunity arise, he volunteered to leave Erebor and travel back to Mirkwood. 

Really, it seemed like a reasonable option in his mind. The Dwarves were finally home and certainly did not wish to leave their ailing rulers, and none of them were really proficient at talking with the Elves for diplomatic purposes. It was beside the fact that their etiquette was not evenly remotely near that of the Elves, and so Bilbo seemed a fit choice. 

Even if he wasn't quite affiliated with the Dwarves.

_I don't really have a place to call my own anymore, do I now?_

He packed what little possessions he wished to take with him swiftly, and readied a pony from the makeshift stables. There were only a few that resided there, having been lost during the battle and taken in by the Dwarves.

It was Fili who protested his leaving when he was at the front gates, securing his bag over the ponie's back.

"You mustn't go, Bilbo!" Fili pleaded. He had his arm around himself, and Bilbo winced at the wound he knew was there. "Your home is here, isn't it? Wait until Uncle wakes up, at least!"

Bilbo's grip tightened on the edge of the saddle for a moment. He turned to Fili, and he hoped the expression on his face wasn't as pained as he felt. "I am not a Dwarf." He says quietly. "Nor am I welcome here. This is not my home."

Fili held his elbow tightly, his grip punishing. "Bilbo, please. You belong here, you will always be welcome here. What if you were to be injured out there? What if the Elves lock you away, or worse? Uncle does not wish for you to leave, if he were awake he would-"

"But he is not awake." Bilbo says harshly, his eyes glossing over. He ducks his head, thankful his curls hide his eyes. "Kili is not awake, you are injured more than you should ever be, and Thorin is not _awake."_

Fili releases his elbow. 

Bilbo rushes through tightening the straps of the saddle, and heaves himself up into it. "Goodbye, Fili."

He urges the pony away before he can hear Fili's pleading cry. 

 

The ride to Mirkwood was arduous. It rained for a week, and Bilbo and the pony both suffered. It was difficult to light a fire, and nights were terrifying by himself. 

He was sure he was coming down with a fever by the time he arrived at the familiar entrance to the woods.

He had never been more glad to see Elves stare down at him.

Bilbo did not recognise many of them - he did, however, recognise a few. There was Tauriel, with her auburn hair and playful eyes that were often shrouded by a pain he would never fully comprehend. And there was Galion, whose name he had only heard in passing. He was one of the Elves that got drunk and unknowingly allowed him to free the Dwarves in the barrels. Bilbo supposed he was a servant of some sort, but even still the Elf harboured no ill will towards Bilbo upon recognising him.

There were six Elves in total, as his escorts. He thought that his purpose in Mirkwood was what earned him a guard, but otherwise he thought he was much too simple to deserve such a thing. 

"Are you alright, Master Baggins?" Galion asks as he walks beside the pony.

Bilbo swayed in his saddle. The trees of the woods were suddenly blurring and bending in ways that did not quite seem so normal. "Oh, I'm- I'm quite alright, really-"

He slipped out of the saddle a moment later. 

 

Tauriel's hands were warm on his temples. He thought he might have heard her voice, but she was speaking Elvish, and he did not understand. 

When he came to fully, he was being carried on Galion's back, and long strands of surprisingly silken hair were ticking his cheek. He mumbles something he hoped sounded like an apology, and Galion was alerted to his return of consciousness. 

"Master Baggins, you're awake!" The Elf offers him what looked to be grin, and heaved him a little higher. "Are you feeling alright? You've been a little sick, but Tauriel has healed most of it away. Once in Mirkwood we'll treat you for your fever."

"I'm sorry." He mumbles. "I don't mean.. to be such... such a burden."

"Oh, not at all." Galion replies. "I expected you to be escorted here, but yet you arrived on your own. I've heard that Hobbits don't travel often."

"Oh, they don't at all." He says tiredly. "Adventures and the like are not to be had by Hobbits. Maybe if you're a Took, but no Hobbit likes to stray from their home."

"And yet here you are, all the way in Mirkwood." Galion chuckles. "I do hope you enjoy your stay here, business aside."

"I think I will." Bilbo sighs, half delirious. "I've done a great misdeed to my Dwarves, after all. I don't think I'm much welcome there."

"How so?" Galion eyed him for a moment, curious. Bilbo thought he may have been fishing for information, but he didn't really mind. Elves did not seem the curious type, so a curious Elf must have been an abnormality quite like an adventurous Hobbit. They were two alike.

"Well, you must have heard of my betrayal." Bilbo answers. "The Arkenstone, and what not."

"I did not think of it as a betrayal." Galion answers honestly. "You did what you thought best for your King, and in the end he lives, however injured. Should they not be praising you for your loyalty, your ingenious?"

Bilbo wanted to laugh, but he was too tired. "No. In fact, it's my fault they're all injured in the first place. I should be... be _banished_ for my actions."

Galion let out a soft, strangled noise. "Well! I doubt that will ever happen, they will come to their senses eventually. And even if not, you must come stay in Mirkwood! You're such a devious little creature, I still cannot believe you stole my keys right out from under my nose."

"Should you not hate me for that?"

Galion chuckles. "Possibly, but I do not. It's splendid to think about, really. Not so much at the time, but now, looking back on it, I find it rather humorous. You must come visit me, my friends still cannot believe I was bested by a Hobbit."

Bilbo laughs weakly. "What strange friends you must have."

Galion grinned. "I'm inclined to agree."

 

Healers in Mirkwood were very talented. His fever and the last traces of his illness were gone within a day and a half. His pony, the poor thing, now grazed in a field of lush grass with the shiniest coat Bilbo had ever seen. 

Bilbo was very intimidated by Thranduil, the Elven King. He was extremely attractive, extremely tall (even more so for a Hobbit) and had an extremely commanding voice. For a nervous Hobbit such as himself, it was difficult to get a word in edgewise, but he thought that negotiations had progressed splendidly.

For one, the King no longer wanted to destroy all of Erebor, and he had stopped wrinkling his brow at the mere mention of Dwarves. 

Bilbo spent most of his free time in the company of Galion. Surprisingly, a strong friendship had bloomed between the two. Galion had a certain flare that the other regal Elves did not - he loved to listen to Bilbo talk about the Shire, even if it was only to repeat gossip about certain families or to speak about how his garden flourished during certain weeks of a season. 

Galion loved to hear about how Hobbits procured wine, and in return often offered Bilbo some of the finest wines he owned, though Bilbo was careful not to drink too much.

In all honesty, he enjoyed his time with the lively Elf. 

But he missed Erebor greatly. 

He did not think he would - after all, a Hobbit would be more at ease in a forest realm like Mirkwood than the stone chambers of Erebor, but still. He missed his company of Dwarves, and he missed Thorin. 

He wondered what would happen when he returned. 

 

It was two weeks after arriving that Bilbo got word of Dwarves at the entrance hall. His heart had started pounding, and he had wanted to go greet them, but Galion would have none of it and forced him to remain in the tea room where they had been having elevenses (the Elf was simply enamoured with Hobbit eating habits, too). 

Galion had returned soon after, his hair aflutter in his haste. "It seems that Thorin Oakenshield and a few of his men are here to... ah, claim you." 

"Claim me?" Bilbo repeated, frowning. He could hardly focus on the fact that Thorin was awake, and moving too, it seemed. 

"Yes, that is what he... announced." Galion frowns. "Bilbo, you do not need to go if you would like to stay here." He offers.

Bilbo sighs. Galion was extremely perceptive; Bilbo thought he might have suspected about Bilbo's affections towards Thorin, but he was unsure. "I do like it here, but I miss Erebor." He says. "I do not know if I will be welcome there."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Galion sighs. "Come along, little Hobbit. We'll see what the fuss is all about."

 

Bilbo had never been more glad to see Thorin so alive, despite his frustrated expression. Bilbo entered the room with Galion guiding him - he was immensely thankful that Thranduil had not made an appearance, and instead the Prince, Legolas, was arguing with Thorin.

"Bilbo!" Thorin exclaimed upon his entrance, sweeping him into an embrace so quickly Bilbo barely had the time to flinch. "Are you alright? Have you been mistreated? I have to apologize for the treatment you received while I was unconscious, I do not wish for you to leave Erebor-"

"Thorin." He murmurs, tentatively returning the embrace. "I am fine. It is I who should be asking after your wellbeing, and not the other way around."

He barely heard Galion ushering the other Elves and Dwarves from the room, but he was very grateful for it. 

Thorin breathed a deep sigh, and butted his forehead against Bilbo's. "Bilbo, I cannot express how grateful I am to you, for everything you did and everything you sacrificed, and for me of all people. I know I have no right to ask anything of you-"

"No," Bilbo interrupts, breathing in heavily as his mind whirls to find the right words, "No, Thorin." He finally says, closing his eyes tightly. "You could ask anything of me and I'd give it to you."

Thorin runs his knuckles down Bilbo's cheek. It felt very intimate. "Will you return to Erebor?"

"If I am still welcome."

"You'll always be welcome." Thorin murmurs. "Bilbo, you know I care about you very deeply."

Bilbo flinches, turning his eyes up to Thorin's. "You do...?"

"Yes, I do." Thorin chuckles. "Do you return my feelings, little Hobbit?"

Bilbo gapes for a moment, before nodding as his eyes fill with tears. "Yes..." He answers, his voice wobbling. He grips Thorin tighter, sniffling. "I'm sorry..."

Thorin chuckles again, and rubs his back soothingly. "There is nothing to be sorry for, my love. Nothing at all."

Bilbo still felt like there was, and they had so much to work out, and so many things to speak of... his head spun with it all, and suddenly all he wanted to do was fall asleep in his bed at Erebor. 

"Now, tell me, how have the negotiations with these people worked out?"

Bilbo laughed hoarsely. He could practically hear the thinly veiled distaste Thorin had for Elves. "Splendidly. I have made friends here, Thorin. They are not all as bad as you may think. I will have to come visit here every so often." 

Thorin grumbles, but does not protest. 

Bilbo was glad, he rather enjoyed Galion's company.

"Still, I think we should return to Erebor as soon as possible." He says. "You've had Fili very worried, and I wish to move you into my room as fast as possible."

"P-pardon?" Bilbo flushed right up to the tip of his ears. 

"Do you not wish to?" Thorin asks. There was a cheeky glint in his eyes that sent shivers down Bilbo's spine. 

"T-that's not it!" Bilbo exclaims, a little to quickly. "Oh no." He mumbles, covering his face with his hands. He'd never embarrassed himself quite so fast before. 

Thorin grins widely, and brushes his lips across the end of Bilbo's nose. "You are far too charming, my little Hobbit."

A great feeling of content swelled inside Bilbo, pushing against the previously hollow spaces that had been left void after the battle. He knew that there was still much for him and Thorin to discuss, and there were many wounds to heal.

But they would heal, and they would get better.

He was sure of it.


	20. Hobbit Expressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin reflects on Bilbo's expressive face. 
> 
> Loosely based on [this.](http://gatissmark.tumblr.com/post/101999197367)

Thorin found that Hobbits (or more specifically, his darling little Hobbit) could be extremely terrifying creatures when provoked.

Bilbo didn't get angry, per say. Instead of anger, he gave Thorin a look of such utter devastation or disappointment that Thorin felt as though the Hobbit's little hands had lunged into his chest and pulled out his heart. He couldn't stand it. He did not like that look.

As it goes, the Dwarf King also found himself on the receiving end quite often. 

Granted, in many of those instances it was most likely the fault of his own doing that he received such a look, but he was only trying to protect Bilbo. Really, Elves could not be trusted- and Bilbo should have an escort to Dale, it was only natural- and as the King's Consort he insisted Bilbo wear a crown-

Sometimes he just could not win with the Hobbit. He swore that the notorious stubbornness of Dwarves had influenced Bilbo. It was as though the Hobbit knew what that look did to Thorin (and not just Thorin, either. Kili and Fili were often cowering away from it, like wounded animals, though the look had yet to work on Dwalin, as funny as it was to watch the Hobbit glower up at the bulky Dwarf).

Thorin could vividly remember the motions Bilbo's face went through when the look was beginning to surface. Mostly, it happened when Bilbo was exasperated. He could imagine clearly in his head the image of Bilbo doing that thing he does where he looks between two people with his lips moving slightly, taking in short breathes only to expel them when he finds he can not fit a word in edgewise. 

Then Bilbo would purse his lips, and his brows would furrow every so slightly, like he was contemplating something. He would stop the movements of his head and stare forward for a moment, and it was plain to see that he was carefully formulating some sort of response in that curly-haired head of his.

And then it came.

The look of contempt that had Thorin aching to apologise for whatever pigheadedness he had inflicted upon the sweet Hobbit. And oh how Bilbo would glower, his jaw clenching ever so slightly under his full cheeks while a wrinkle appeared in the space between his brows, of which would bend to almost meet. 

And his _eyes._ They would turn up, because the Dwarves were taller than him (even if not by much) and he would look wounded and upset and demanding all rolled into one terrifyingly heart wrenching expression that Thorin simply could not ignore.

Of course, that meant that Thorin spent much of his time comforting the Hobbit after that specific expression had made an appearance, though it was more of him apologizing and Bilbo glowering until he apologized for the right thing. Either way, Thorin did not really mind.

It felt very good to have Bilbo in his arms, after all.

He loved the way Bilbo fit against him. How those perpetually tousled curls would brush against the underside of his chin, and how Bilbo was the perfect height to be able to rest his cheek against Thorin's collarbones. He loved how Bilbo's hands fit in just one of his, and how Bilbo's body warmth always seeped through their combined clothing to touch his skin. 

He did not think there was a way for him to express how much he adored his Hobbit. There was no amount of jewels in the world to give him (not that Bilbo would appreciate the treasures otherwise perfect for Dwarven couples), and Thorin did not know much about the meanings of flowers like Hobbits did, so he offered the ones he thought looked the nicest, and he was always sure to keep the fireplace roaring in their rooms for the Hobbit to curl up in front of.

It would never be enough. 

He'd give the stubborn little thing the world, if only Bilbo were not too selfless to ask for it.


	21. Attention Envious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin does not appreciate Bilbo spending his time with people other than he himself.

"The Hobbit has friends." Kili murmurs disdainfully, his brow furrowing in something akin to a pout. 

"Well of course he does." Balin says, matter of fact. "He's a very gentle Hobbit, and very sociable once he gets to know the people he is with."

"He's friends will all of us, after all." Gloin adds as he briefly glances away from where he was polishing the curved blade of his axe. "And we're not a very sociable bunch."

"We should be his only friends!" Kili was frowning further, even as Fili patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. "He shouldn't be friends with Elves when he can be friends with me...!"

"Elves?" 

Kili jumped at his Uncle's sudden growl, and twisted from Fili's grip to look up at him. Kili knew his Uncle was on his last nerve at being cooped up in Mirkwood, but it was for political delegations so he couldn't exactly leave, or even start a food fight (though it was more likely one of the other Dwarves would, instead of Thorin himself). 

"Now, Thorin," Balin starts in that cautious, warning tone he often used on Dwarven children, "Don't you go running off and spoiling Master Bilbo's fun. The Elves will not mistreat him. In fact, they've become rather fond of him."

Thorin growled again, and spun on his heel.

Kili winced as the door slammed shut. 

 

Bilbo laughed as Galion flipped his long, silken hair over his shoulders in indignation. The Elf, although a little too enthusiastic about his wines, was still rather good company. He was very interested in Hobbit culture, and loved the idea of seven daily meals (for an Elf, he was surprisingly flippant about his image, though in the company of other Elves he held himself so tall Bilbo often thought he was someone else entirely). 

Bilbo found himself very comfortable around most of the Elves. Tauriel was very polite, but had playful eyes that most of the other Elves shied away from. Galion was a sort of servant under Thranduil personally, meaning he was employed by the royals, but his curiosity was so unlike other Elves that Bilbo thought they were very similar (a curious Elf and an adventurous Hobbit were both quite abnormal, after all). 

"Are you sure, little Hobbit?" Galion asks, reaching out his long, slender fingers to grip Bilbo's smaller hand. "I really wish for you to stay. My brethren and I enjoy your company very much, and it is not often a Hobbit strays so far from their home! It's a wonderful opportunity for us to get to know one another better."

"Yes, I understand you're very curious about Hobbits." Bilbo chuckles. His eyes drift across the courtyard, where a tall Elf with long, pale chestnut hair and somewhat broad shoulders (for an Elf) is standing among his friends. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you are offering to court me."

Galion flushes quickly when he sees where Bilbo has glanced off to. "Shh! He will hear." He says with a small, pleading noise that sounds oddly like a whimper. 

Bilbo tries not to laugh. Galion was very endearing, and despite his age being much greater than Bilbo's, the Hobbit thought he had quite the childish streak. "You should tell him." Bilbo offers quietly.

"I cannot." Galion lowers his eyes.

Bilbo thought he might be pouting. _What a strange Elf indeed._ "You will not know unless you try." Bilbo says. "I admit I do not know much about Elvish traditions or courtship procedures, but I believe he will certainly be interested."

"How can you be sure?" Galion cries, gripping Bilbo's hands tightly. "He's so tall, and handsome, and kind hearted, and he surely would never want to be with someone as low a level as I-"

"Nonsense." Bilbo cuts in, shaking his head. He didn't know anything about the hierarchy of Elves, but he was sure it wouldn't matter to the Elf that Galion was admiring. "You're quite the catch, if you don't mind me saying! Very kind, very interesting, very unique - all things good Hobbits look for, besides for a good garden of course."

"Pardon?"

Bilbo flinches as a very angry Dwarf King appears behind him. "Oh, Thorin! You gave me a heart attack." He exclaims as he presses a hand against his chest. He could feel his heart racing, even through his layers of clothing.

Thorin narrows his eyes, and crosses his arms. "If I could have a word with you?"

Bilbo frowned. Thorin wasn't even looking at Galion, who stared down at Thorin with an expression of distaste. "Of course." He answers. It wasn't often that he found the need to say no to Thorin, especially not since his sudden attraction to the Dwarf (though it was more of a sudden _realisation;_ he'd been attracted to Thorin since he first appeared at Bilbo's front door in Bag-End). Bilbo turns back to Galion. "If you'll excuse me, for a moment."

Galion grips his hand for a little longer. "Hurry back." He says, before reluctantly releasing Bilbo.

Thorin growled and lead Bilbo away with a hand firm on his back. 

"Are you alright?" Bilbo asks as they enter an empty room. "Did something happen?"

"Something did!" Thorin turns sharp eyes on Bilbo. "You happened!"

"What?" Bilbo frowns. "What did I do?"

"You've..." Thorin growls as the words do not come to his mind. "You're socialising."

"Well, yes, I am. How is that a problem?"

"With Elves!"

"Yes."

_"Elves!"_

"Thorin, Elves are not the problem here." Bilbo answers, exasperated. "What is it, truly?"

Thorin glares.

Bilbo raises his eyebrows as a thought strikes him. "Are you jealous that I'm spending my time with Elves?"

"No." Thorin snorts.

"Liar." Bilbo whispers quietly, before sighing. "Thorin, the Elves are my friends. They are not as bad as you may believe. You've met Tauriel, have you not? She's lovely, and was very kind to Kili, remember? And Galion is very sweet-"

"So you like him, is that it?" Thorin demands.

Oh, he was a very jealous Dwarf indeed. "Well, I enjoy his company." Bilbo says, crossing his arms. "He does not care that I enjoy the company of Dwarves as well as his own people's."

Thorin glares. "What was that conversation I walked in on?" He asks.

"With Galion?" Bilbo frowns, and lowers his arms. "The poor thing is very self-conscious." He says, watching somewhat apprehensively as Thorin lowers himself into one of the armchairs in the room, before doing the same himself. "He's interested in someone, but believes he is not... to standard, I think."

Thorin just frowns at him. He was growing red steadier as the conversation went on, from embarrassment at his mistake, Bilbo was sure.

"He asked my advice on what I thought of the situation." Bilbo continues. "Now I said he was a great catch, you see, for he's a very handsome Elf, is he not? Very kind, and unique; he's so curious, it's unlike all the other Elves, even Tauriel, what with her playfulness."

"I do not quite understand." Thorin frowns again.

Bilbo pretends not to notice how the stubborn Dwarf King turns redder in humiliation, and instead stands and makes his way over to sit on the arm of Thorin's chair. "Thorin, what is really the matter?" He asks gently.

Thorin does not meet his eyes. "You spend so much time in the company of others." He says begrudgingly. "Not just the Elves, but my nephews and the company too."

"Well of course, we're friends." Bilbo says. "I enjoy their company."

"Do you prefer them?"

"Over who?" Bilbo says. "Over your company?"

Thorin nods, but it is such a small nod Bilbo has trouble catching it.

He sighs, nevertheless. "Well, at first I did." He says honestly. "You were perhaps the most intimidating Dwarf sitting at my dinner table in Bag-End. And certainty the most handsome person I'd met."

Thorin glances up, but again, Bilbo pretends not to notice to avoid feeling embarrassed at his own blush.

"But I've gotten to know you now." He continues. "And you were not easy to get to know, what with all that adventuring going on. Respectable Hobbits don't go on adventures, you know."

"So you've mentioned."

"But I do not resent your company," Bilbo says, "Nor do I fear it, or feel dread at it."

"Then why?" _Why do you not spend as much time with me?_

It was an unspoken question that Bilbo clearly heard. "You still intimidate me, somewhat." Bilbo answers, flushing. "Not out of fear, but... because..." He couldn't say it.

Thorin grips his hand, and smiles tightly. "It is alright, I understand." He says.

"Then you too...?"

Thorin nods, and smiles.

It truly is a breathtaking smile, and Bilbo cannot help but return it. "If I knew that speaking to Elves would finally bring this about, I would have done it sooner."

Thorn frowns, and Bilbo thought it might have been a pout - Kili certainly learnt that from his Uncle.

Bilbo laughs. "Thorin, we will not remain in Mirkwood for much longer." He says, gently rubbing his thumb along the back of Thorin's hand. "My attention will not be as divided when we return to Erebor, now will it? I must take my fill on Elvish socialising while I have the opportunity."

Thorin still looked sour, but nodded, seemingly appeased at Bilbo's use of the word _we._ "I must apologize for my behaviour."

"It is alright." Bilbo laughs. "I do not mind all that much. But if you ever wish for my attention, do not hesitate to ask, okay? I hardly notice when I've been speaking to the one person for an extended period of time. Hobbits are very gossipy, you know. It's a dreadful trait."

"Alright, I will not hesitate then." Thorin grins something awfully sly, and Bilbo tries not to roll his eyes.

In a moment of bravery, Bilbo leans down and presses a kiss to Thorin's forehead, and is immensely pleased with Thorin smiles a smile brighter than the sun itself. "Now I believe I have to convince an Elf to follow his heart."

Thorin chuckles, and places a soft kiss to Bilbo's knuckles in return. "We will speak later."

"If you wish."


	22. Favouritism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dwarves want to know who Bilbo's favourite is.

Dwarves weren't notoriously gossipy, not like Hobbits were. If a Hobbit told his cousin that his garden was in fact overrun by a pest insect, then every Hobbit in the entire town, all the way down to the last Hobbit living on the edge of the Shire, would know within the hour.

Dwarves were, however, extremely, persistently _nosy._

Bilbo found that their nosiness almost exceeded that of Hobbits, for if a Dwarf were to become suddenly interested in any personal matters, they simply had to know all the details. It was strange, Bilbo thought, and a little impolite, but generally he did not mind. The questions he'd been asked so far had yet to be anything he was dreadfully embarrassed about, and the Dwarves didn't limit their relentless questioning to only him, but each other as well, so he didn't feel targeted.

"So, Bilbo." Kili turns to him with a sly look in his eyes that makes Bilbo tense apprehensively. "Who is your favourite Dwarf in the company?"

Bilbo splutters for a moment. He can feel Thorin's eyes boring into the side of the head; he'd never felt such a heated gaze from the great King Under the Mountain. 

The entire company (minus Gandalf, who had disappeared off to who knows where doing who knows what) sat around a long table, where the remnants of a good, hearty meal lay strewn across the table top. Almost instantly the chatter died down as every Dwarf waited for Bilbo to speak. 

"Why do you ask?" Bilbo questions nervously, wringing his hands in the bottom of his shirt under the table. He was flushing red, because he sort of knew the answer, but he didn't want to insinuate that he liked any one person over the other. 

"Curious." Kili answers, his eyes glinting. Bilbo resisted a wince. That look did not bode well for the little Hobbit.

"W-well, calling favourites is not something I do..." Bilbo starts.

Kili rested his chin in his hand, and watched Bilbo with a grin touching his lips. "I'm sure you have favourites, though." He says.

"I have to agree." Fili says, mimicking Kili's position. "Are we your favourites, Master Hobbit? Is that why you do not want to say, to spare the feelings of these lesser Dwarves?"

"Lesser Dwarves?" Bofur cries in indignation. "Why would the Hobbit prefer you children over us more experienced, more worldly Dwarves? We can hold a conversation with him much easier!"

Bifur was nodding in agreement, along with Bombur, who did not look like he wished to say anything on the matter. Bilbo opened his mouth to try and stop the impending argument, but he couldn't fit any words in around the shouts suddenly raised in volume.

A hand touches Bilbo's shoulder, making him jump. His wide eyes dart up to see Thorin standing above him, his lips pursed. 

"Do you mind leaving with me?" He asks quietly.

Bilbo nods quickly, relieved at the opportunity to politely leave the company of over-enthusiastic Dwarves. He allows Thorin to guide him by the elbow, and breathes in a deep breathe of the cold air outside of the dining hall. 

"I apologize for their behaviour." Thorin says as he watches Bilbo lean against the stone wall. 

"It's quite alright." Bilbo waves off his concerns with a flip of his wrist. "They're just curious, is all. Nosier than most Hobbits, I admit, but most of the time it's harmless."

Thorin nods, but he does not look fully appeased. "They are a curious bunch..." He starts carefully. 

Bilbo sighs. "You are curious too, then?"

Thorin has the decency to flush, but he nods.

"I really don't want to play favourites." Bilbo says, even as his cheeks fill with colour. "It doesn't feel right."

"But you do have a favourite."

"Possibly?" Bilbo answers unsurely. "It's more like I get along with some more so than others... Dwalin is still rather intimidating." He says, flexing his fingers. 

"Who do you get along with?" Thorin asks.

Bilbo pretended not to notice the way Thorin was staring, as if the question was some sort of test. "Well, Ori is always pleasant company." He says. "I like to cook with Bombur, and your nephews aren't too bad when they're keeping themselves out of trouble."

"And what of me?"

Bilbo flushes, and cannot meet Thorin's eyes. "W-well, I enjoy you're company too. Very much." Bilbo says.

Thorin grins, looking pleased. "How so?" He demands.

Bilbo's nose twitches. He was getting quickly embarrassed, but Thorin appeared oblivious. "U-uh. Well. You're always very honest, and straight-forward." He says, frowning as he thinks hard about his wording. "You don't glare at me as much as you did when we first did; in fact, I don't think you glare at all anymore. And you're very supportive. You don't really lose interest when I speak of Hobbit things, though I hardly notice myself- oh! And you allowed me to stay in Erebor, of course, and you even gave me a room with such a lovely fireplace."

Thorin was grinning wider than Bilbo had ever seen, and it was the slight flush to the Dwarven King's face that made Bilbo finally shut his mouth with a horrendous little moan of embarrassment.

"Master Burglar," Thorin starts, stepping closer, enough to box Bilbo in against the wall, "Tell me. Who is your favourite?"

"Do I have to say it?" Bilbo whimpers as Thorin leans closer. His scent, something strong and warm and faintly earthy, washes over Bilbo. 

"I'd like to hear it." Thorin murmurs in his pointed ear. 

Bilbo takes in a deep breathe. He can feel his heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird against his ribs. "You are." He whispers. 

Thorin takes that as permission to press against Bilbo - gently, so as not to push boundaries, and with the knuckles of his hand he traces a line down from Bilbo's temple to his chin, before cupping his cheek. 

"I'm glad." Thorin murmurs, his eyes alight as they catch a firm hold of Bilbo's. "You are my favourite Hobbit, too."

"I am the only Hobbit you know." Bilbo chuckles, relaxing against Thorin's gentle hold. 

"Hmm, then you are my favourite altogether." Thorin declares with a charming smile.

Bilbo flushes, and allows Thorin to nuzzle against the crown of his head. He did not know what to say to that, so he remained silent, but there was a smile on his lips nevertheless. 

"I told you!" A voice hisses down the hallway.

"Pay up, pay up!" Another chimes.

There was grumbling, and the sound of coins being passed across hands.

Thorin lifted his head and glared towards the wide doors that led into the dining hall. "And what exactly are you two speaking of?" 

Kili made of noise of surprise, and jumped behind Fili, who looked just as bashful. "Well, Uncle, it was painfully obvious you liked Master Bilbo!" Fili defends.

"We just had to get the ball rolling." Kili adds from over his brothers shoulder.

"What?" Thorin asks, agape. 

"And Bilbo likes you, too." Kili says with a self-assured nod of his head. "We could all see it."

Bilbo flushes, stuttering denials, but when Thorin's arm slides around his waist he is silenced. 

"Bloody tired of it all, if you ask me." Dwalin says gruffly as he pushes back the Princes and makes his way down the hallway. "You two acting like love struck children was sickening. Couldn't deal with all the eyeing you two did."

Kili and Fili started cackling with laughter, and soon the entire company was laughing - they had all planned this from the start! Bilbo wanted to hide under his bed covers in mortification, but he was somewhat pleased to think that Thorin had been pining over him much like he had been over Thorin. 

Yes, Dwarves were very nosy creatures, especially when it dealt with personal affairs of other people.

But sometimes that was for the better.


	23. Fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbits were not meant for battle.

Hobbits were not meant for battle.

Their feet could be cumbersome, and their arms were too short for standard swords. Their reach was minimal, and they were not built with the muscle to carry armour and wield a weapon for extended periods of time. 

Hobbits were fragile. They lived a fragile existence, where even leaving their homes was a danger, and as such craved a sense of stability and routine that resulted in them having seven daily meals and rigorous gardening routines.

Yes, Hobbits were fragile. 

Bilbo was no different, at the core. Despite his bravery when it came to leaving his home to go on an adventure with a kooky old wizard and twelve gruff, intimidating Dwarves that could snap his arm with a single hand, he was irrevocably fragile. 

His bones were frail, like a birds, and his feeble skin tinged under the extended exposure to the sun. His weight plummeted, and sometimes when the rations were scarce he could feel his ribs beginning to poke through his torso. He sneezed at pony hair, and his eyes watered at the smell of sweat that constantly clung to his clothes. His muscles ached after prolonged horse riding, and he could hardly lift the blade he had been entrusted with.

Bilbo was very fragile. Physically, mentally, emotionally...

But he loved the adventure. He was an abnormal Hobbit - possibly, it came from his Tookish side, but the adventure thrilled him and the company grew on him. 

He even fell in love, if that was what one call could such feelings. 

He didn't regret leaving his home that day, and he didn't think he ever would. It was an adventure to admire, he was sure, and the thrill of it would never leave him.

But Hobbits were unbearably fragile.

No Hobbit could possibly survive a battle as great as the Battle of the Five Armies. He might have, in the end - if he hadn't been so in love with Thorin Oakenshield. 

He didn't blame the sobbing King, who lay by his side cradling his prone form. He had loved the King with all he could offer, and taken all from the King that a simple Hobbit could desire. 

"It was my choice." He gasps, his chest heaving. Thorin had to understand- he _had_ to- the life of a Hobbit was a sacrifice he was willing to pay to save the life of a great Dwarven King. He had moved in front of Azog's blade so that Thorin had the chance to fell the beast, and Thorin had to understand. "T-Thorin- please-"

"No, hush." Thorin gripped him tighter, trying to prevent the cold of the ice from creeping into the Hobbit's veins. "It will be alright, you will have your armchair and your fireplace and you will plant your acorn and watch it grow-"

Bilbo breathed in hard, trying to listen to the words that spilled from Thorin's lips. He hardly felt the hot, staining tears that fell from the King's eyes and onto his cheeks. "It was my choice." He repeats with a gasp. "My choice-"

"Shh." Thorin soothed, pushing back his curls from his eyes. "Do not worry, my One. You will be alright. You will live."

"Thorin." Bilbo murmured, smiling. "I won't."

"You have to!" Thorin sobbed. Bilbo could feel that the King was trembling, his hands shaking. "I have to apologize for all I've done, under the sickness- I have wronged you so terribly! I will make it up to you, I promise."

Bilbo looked to the sky. It looked so pretty from where he lay, and for a moment, he dreamt he was still in the Shire, watching the sunrise. "Ah..." He says. "The eagles are coming..."

Thorin glanced up, where the large birds were swooping in from the distance, shrouded by the blinding light of the sun. 

"Thorin, look. The eagles are coming." Bilbo murmured. "The eagles are coming."

"I can see, my love." Thorin whispered. "They will save us. They will save you."

Weakly, Bilbo felt around in his pocket, and pulled out the acorn. "Take it." He whispers on a smile, opening his fingers to reveal the small thing. "Take it."

"I cannot." Thorin chokes. "It is yours, and you will plant it-"

"Thorin." Bilbo gasps as he feels blood rise in his throat. "Take it, take it."

"Bilbo? Bilbo, no-!"

"Take it." Bilbo whimpers. "Please, Th... Thorin." The light from the sun was fading, and the feeling of the ice was something Bilbo no longer felt. "Please..."

Thorin stiffened, and tightened his grip on the Hobbit. "Bilbo?"

He watched with bloodshot eyes as the small hand holding the small acorn fell limp. The acorn rolled across the ice, and came to a stop just outside of Thorin's reach. He did not take it. 

"Bilbo?" He whimpers, shaking touching Bilbo's cheek. The Hobbit's eyes looked up above, where the Eagles circled and released cries that sounded like mournful wails. The Hobbit did not move. "Bilbo? Bilbo!" 

Still, Bilbo remained stiff. His skin grew cold under Thorin's touch. His lips paled - lips that Thorin had kissed, and whispered heated promises to, lips that had kissed him back and offered comfort when nothing else could soothe the King. 

Faintly, Thorin heard members of the company climb atop the frozen river. He heard Fili's wail of desperation as the dwarf held onto his younger brother, who could not look at Thorin and instead hid his pinched expression in Fili's shoulder. He heard the intake of breathe offered by the aurburn-haired Elf that accompanied them, and he heard the whispered prayers offered by the older Dwarves.

But he did not hear his Hobbit breathe. 

_"No!"_


	24. Family Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin worries about Bilbo getting along with his family.

After their courtship began, Thorin worried that Bilbo would not be able to get along well with his family. The Hobbit had yet to meet Dis, who could intimidate even the strongest of Dwarves with a single glance, not to mention that Kili and Fili could become unbearably annoying to live with.

Thorin worried for his little Hobbit quite a bit. 

Of course, he should have realised he had nothing to worry about. His family may be over enthusiastic and rather intimidating, but his dear Bilbo was nothing if not adaptable. 

Thorin found that Bilbo got along easiest with Fili. It was no surprise - his heir could be reasonably responsible and polite, and Fili had been the one to defend Bilbo from Thorin when the King had succumbed to the gold sickness. They did not have much in common to speak of, but their friendship grew surprisingly fast, which left Thorin very pleased. 

When Dis and her company of Dwarves arrived for Thorin's coronation, and to assist with the rebuilding of Erebor, Bilbo had been very worried that she would not approve of him.  
He was, after all, a different species, and he could not bear children for Thorin.

But Thorin told him that Dis would love him, even though he was worried himself. He took the time to soothe Bilbo's nerves as he braided his silver beads through a strand of Bilbo's hair, which he had grown long enough to braid so that he might be more like Dwarves.

Thorin found it endearing, and once again, he had nought to worry about.

Dis was sceptical at first. She observed Bilbo with eyes like an owl - full of judgement and intelligence, and harsh, like the first snow of winter. She did not hold back her thoughts, but Bilbo quickly impressed her.

Really, Thorin's little Hobbit impressed everybody.

Bilbo cooked the welcoming meal for every Dwarf in Erebor almost all by himself, and made sure to politely introduce himself to every Dwarf that crossed his path. He was sure to remember all their names (something even Thorin sometimes struggled with) and he presented Dis with a handmade gift - it was typical in Dwarven courtships to present your partners kin with a heartfelt offering to show your seriousness, but Thorin had not told Bilbo that.

He had made sure to point that out to Dis, that Bilbo had taken it upon himself to fully research Dwarven customs and partake in them as best as he possibly could.

Dis had thoroughly enjoyed wearing her new hair ornament. It was a peony, with wide, layered petals made from blown glass and inlaid with gems that Bilbo thought would enhance Dis's eyes. While flowers were not the typical subject matter, and nor was glass blowing a typical skill, but it had been so beautiful and so delicately made that Dis had taken to wearing it every night.

She even got many comments, and others asking where she had bought it.

Thorin thought he had never heard her say anything as proudly as she did when she said _"It's one of a kind! My new brother-in-law made it, the lovely little thing"._

Either way, she quickly warmed to Bilbo.

Thorin thought she might have grown to adore Bilbo more than she liked him, her own brother!

Surprisingly, Kili was the hardest to get along with for Bilbo.

It was not as though they did not get along, because they did. But Thorin thought there might have been no proper connection, and it troubled him. 

Evidentially, it also troubled his sister.

"Has something happened between them?" She asks him one night as she watched Bilbo listen to Fili retell his entire day's story, with Kili no where in sight. "It's strange to see my boys parted."

Thorin nodded in agreement. "I do not think there is anything between them that would cause a rift."

"Perhaps Kili is nervous around him." Dis muses.

"How so?"

"Thorin, you realise that my youngest son looks up to you very much, do you not? You are like a father to him." She says. A look of grief passed through her eyes at the memory of her lost husband, but she shook it off. "I would bet that my Kili does not know how to address your Hobbit anymore."

"I do not quite understand." Thorin frowns.

"Maybe you should have Bilbo speak to him." Dis recommends. "Ask Bilbo to sort it out. He will understand what I said."

Thorin nods, only because he knows Dis will not take no for an answer, though he hardly knows what she means.

He did bring it up with his Bilbo, later than night. He explained what Dis said, and Bilbo had nodded as if he understood every word Thorin spoke. 

Bilbo had left soon after to pursue Kili, Thorin assumed, and he waited some time before following when his curiosity got the better of him.

Kili had been in one of the many studies of Erebor, though he had not been reading. When Thorin peeked into the room, he saw that they were standing across from one another, and they were speaking quietly. 

"Kili, I do not mind what you call me." Bilbo says in such a reassuring manner that Thorin would have otherwise assumed he was talking to a younger child. "As long as you are comfortable."

Kili hesitated. Bilbo waited patiently for him to speak. "I care about Uncle very much, and so does Fili, and now that you're... with Uncle- doesn't it change everything?"

"Not if you do not wish for it to change." Bilbo consoles. "Kili, you must understand that I love your Uncle very much, right?"

Kili nods quickly. "Without a doubt!"

"Then you know that means I love you and Fili very much as well, correct?"

Kili flushed, and glanced down at his hands. A fierce ache to comfort him swelled in Thorin's chest, because he hadn't seen that insecure look in his nephew's eyes since he was very young, but Thorin knew he must not interrupt them. 

Bilbo let out a sigh, and opened his arms. "Come here."

Thorin was sure Kili would not move, but he was shocked when he saw Kili buckle down into Bilbo's embrace, and bury his face against Bilbo's shoulder. His heart beat wildly as he watched Bilbo pat his nephew's hair comfortingly, his arms tight around the taller Dwarf who suddenly seemed so much smaller than the Hobbit himself.

"Thank you, Uncle." Kili murmured quietly, so quietly Thorin had hardly heard it. He tried to hold in his sharp intake of breath, even as Bilbo mumbled soft words to Kili that he could not hear.

He'd left soon after that, leaving them be.

He wondered why he had been so confused over his sister's words, because now it sounded perfectly reasonable.

It wasn't that Kili had had an argument with Bilbo, or that he did not like Bilbo - it was because he already thought of Bilbo very highly, and ached for comfort from the Hobbit, comfort he did not think Bilbo was willing or ready to give.

Thorin had nothing to worry about when it came to his darling little Hobbit getting along with his family. There was nothing he could do to make them like one another.

His Bilbo could do that perfectly fine on his own.


	25. Lovesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company takes it upon themselves to occupy Thorin and Bilbo separately.  
> Thorin will not have it.

Dwarves, by nature, were very curious. They liked to figure things out for themselves, and more often than not, they were figuring out something that had to do with their possessions. Jewellery working, iron smelting, even cooking for the few select Dwarves who enjoyed such a thing- they were very curious.

Hobbits were not. Hobbits were nosy, and gossipy, though Bilbo liked to think he was different. He did not wish to end up like Lobelia, who could simply not keep her hands away from his silverware. 

After Bilbo's courtship with Thorin became official, with a Dwarven ceremony that involved Thorin braiding Bilbo's hair with his beads, the Hobbit found that privacy soon became a far and few between occasion. All he wanted was some time alone with Thorin, to do things- _to do things that couples did,_ and yet by the time they were both in bed he was so exhausted that he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow!

After a week of it all, Bilbo thought that the company might have been up to something. Whenever he searched out Thorin, Kili and Fili would insist he train with them, effectively wearing him out. Bombur had him helping with the preparing of meals several times throughout the day, not that Bilbo minded because he did enjoy cooking, but he knew Bombur did not always need his help.

Ori, the sweet little thing, just soaked up whatever information Bilbo gave him, and Bilbo found himself losing hours with the young Dwarf in the library. Dwalin, while not actively seeking Bilbo out, would insist that Thorin complete some sort of task that left his whereabouts unknown to Bilbo. 

Bofur and Bifur were excited to show him their skills in toy making - _"In preparation of any little ones that might come along"_ they said, to which Bilbo blushed so red he thought his skin might have looked sunburnt. 

Balin was always pleased to keep Bilbo occupied for hours with teaching him about Dwarven cultures and traditions, including their language, which often left Bilbo with a headache. Dori and Nori assisted him, and many times they played him music on their flutes that they said belonged to a variety of different Dwarven celebrations.

Gloin and Oin were the ones to fill in the free time Bilbo had between being shipped around by the other Dwarves - they taught him survival skills, like how to light a fire and basic medical applications, though Bilbo told them it was unlikely he would need such things deep in the heart of Erebor. 

Really, he was getting quite frustrated with it all.

Coincidentally, it was not long after that that he found a moment alone with Thorin. 

The King Under the Mountain seemed ravenous - his hands gripped Bilbo's hips a little too tightly and his lips moved across Bilbo as if he had never tasted anything sweeter than this. 

"I do not know what they are up to," Thorin pants against his lips, lifting a hand to run his knuckles down Bilbo's flushed cheek, "But I have tired of it. I wish to have you."

Bilbo's mouth tried to form words, but when he found that he couldn't, he nodded and allowed himself to be swept up into another searing kiss with his King. 

Thorin's hands were big, and heated Bilbo's skin even through his clothes. The Hobbit gasped as Thorin dipped his hands under Bilbo's waistcoat and undershirt to touch his skin directly. Bilbo gripped a handful of Thorin's long, unruly hair, tugging it when Thorin's tongue swept over the seam of his lips to dip inside.

Bilbo moaned. It was a sound that had Thorin gripping him tighter, pulling him towards the armchair across the room. Bilbo easily fit across his lap, his knees on either side of Thorin's hips. The stretch made his thighs ache a little, but Bilbo found that he didn't mind it at all. 

Thorin's hands were disappearing up the front of Bilbo's shirt, gently kneading his softness (which Thorin found incredibly attractive, despite Bilbo's complaints about his chubbiness) when the door to the room suddenly burst open.

"Uncle- Oh Mahal!" Kili screeched. "My eyes!"

Bilbo lurched away from Thorin's lips with a startled cry, moving backwards so fast he would have fallen right out of Thorin's lap if the Dwarf had not gripped him tightly enough. 

"What? What is it, Kili?"

Bilbo's entire face burned with humiliation as several more Dwarves peeked their heads in the room. Most backed out right away, looking rather bashful, because they knew exactly what had been going on only moments earlier. 

Thorin growled and stood, leaving Bilbo seated on the armchair with his lips swollen and his clothes in disarray. 

"Out." Thorin commanded. Bilbo had never seen the Dwarves move so fast, despite the snickering that was building up. Thorin slammed the door shut in their faces, before turning around and sighing at Bilbo.

The Hobbit watched him for a moment, and thinks he must look very ruffled. When Thorin strolled over and lifted him into an embrace, he couldn't help but laugh.

It was so ridiculous. They were so ridiculous. 

"I cannot believe that just happened." He says through huffs of laughter. "Your poor nephews."

"Serves them right." Thorin grumbles, but he was smiling, hiding his own little chuckles in Bilbo's curls. "Maybe they will stop keeping us apart."

"I sure hope so." Bilbo grins. 

The sly look in Thorin's bright eyes and the charming little quirk in his lips had Bilbo wanting to swoon like a lovesick teenager.

He supposed he was - lovesick, that is. 

He didn't mind.


	26. Treasure Of All Treasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wishes to learn more about the Dwarven language, Khuzdul.

After the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo decided to remain in Erebor. There were many reasons for his decision - he wanted to help monitor the recovery of Thorin and his sister-sons, he enjoyed spending time with company, he did not think of the Shire as his _home_ any longer-

Either way, he stayed because he was welcome. 

Living with Dwarves in a place as grand and spacious as Erebor was something he struggled to become accustom to. Eventually he stopped getting lost in the winding corridors, and he finally convinced Bombur to allow him to rearrange the kitchen to his liking _(the spoons have to go the right of the forks, I shall not have it any other way!)._

Bilbo supposed the thing he struggled with the most was the Dwarven language, Khuzdul. The language was deep and guttural - Bilbo was able to faintly pick up the Elven language after listening to them speak it carefully, but he found that he could not even understand the main phrases the Dwarves commonly used. 

Bilbo often spent most of his time with Thorin. The King was not allowed to do strenuous activity, so after he was permitted to leave his bed he spent most of his time sorting through diplomatic issues and working through the mountainous piles of paperwork that cluttered his office.

Often when Thorin was tired, he slipped into Khuzdul without realising. Bilbo never understood a word of it, but he didn't complain. The words flowed like liquid from Thorin's lips, and Bilbo was so entranced that he often stared at the King, his face flushed, until Thorin stopped speaking and apologized for not speaking the language Bilbo understood.

The Hobbit was immensely grateful Thorin thought his staring was because of the language barrier and not because of Bilbo's weird attraction to him. 

It was four months after Bilbo settled in Erebor that he decided it was best for him to start properly learning the language. Every morning Thorin had taken to greeting him in Khuzdul, and every night he would depart from him with another. It was driving him crazy, not knowing what Thorin said, because the King always said it in a way that made Bilbo's belly warm.

He was sure he was over exaggerating everything - because he was definitely attracted to Thorin. In some sort of love-struck way, his mind twisted every little thing the Dwarf did into something it was most likely not. 

But still, learning the Dwarven language was for the best. 

He didn't think that every single Dwarf in the company (aside from Thorin, who was much too busy as King) would insist they teach him. It was overwhelming, but after another month Bilbo found that he was learning quickly enough.

In the kitchens, Bombur would call ingredients by their names in Khuzdul, and teach him about Dwarven dishes and beverages. Bifur didn't really say much, but he nodded along as Bofur gently spoke to him in basic Khuzdul that Bilbo was pleased to say he learned rather swiftly. Dori and Nori were much the same, teaching him phrases that he found to be useful.

Gloin and Oin taught him the more difficult phrases. They emphasised his pronunciation, which was rather difficult for Bilbo to fathom, but they treated him with such patience that could only show testament to their maturity. Ori was immensely excited to teach Bilbo the Dwarven writing - his strokes and lettering was so much neater than Bilbo's, and the sweet little thing loved to be the teacher instead of the student for a while. 

Dwalin didn't really care much for teaching him, but he spoke common battle phrases to Bilbo, and taught him what phrases to avoid saying to Dwarves, and if he should so hear such a phrase directed at him, when exactly he should run. 

Bilbo was hesitant to trust what Kili and Fili taught him. The cheeky buggers snickered the entire time they helped Bilbo pronounce things, and reassured him that they only spoke the truth to him. 

"You have to say that to Uncle." Fili said, his hands tight on Bilbo's shoulders. "He will think highly of you if you do."

"He will?" Bilbo asks faintly.

"He will!" Kili confirms, grinning. "And remember the other thing we told you? Say that as well."

Bilbo frowns. "What does it translate to, again?"

The brothers glanced at each other, before Fili looked at Bilbo again. "It is very polite to say it to a King." Fili says. "But you must only say it to Uncle!"

"Why?"

"He is your only King!" Kili joins. "Is he not? Or do you pay fealty to others, as well?"

"No!" Bilbo exclaims, shaking his head. "Of course Thorin is my only King?"

"Good." Fili pats his shoulders, before spinning him around. "Now off you go, go do... whatever Hobbits do."

Bilbo huffed, but went on his way, puzzled over how those two could always confuse him as they did. 

By the next morning, Bilbo was ready to greet Thorin in Khuzdul. He'd practiced the pronunciation, and was sure he would not make a fool of himself. 

Thorin entered the study, looking sated with breakfast and ready to work. He spoke his greeting (one Bilbo was still unsure about; he could only understand the "good morning, Bilbo" section, so the rest was a mystery).

 _"Good morning."_ Bilbo said slowly, trying not to frown at the pronunciation.

Thorin startled, looking at him wide-eyed. "You spoke Khuzdul!"

Bilbo worried the end of his shirt with his hands. "Uh, yes. I did. I have been learning these past months. Did I... mispronounce?"

Thorin shook his head, and smiled down at him. "No, it was good. What else have you learned?"

"Not too much." Bilbo admitted with a flush. "I cannot really understand much of what you say... but I can write it fairly easy - Ori has been teaching me. In fact, everybody has. Your nephews worry me, though."

Thorin frowns. "Well, tell me if they bother you too much."

Bilbo nods, and smiles. He was pleased his greeting had worked out well.

Eventually, the holes in Thorin's words began to bother him. He wanted to ask Thorin what he said all those times, but he did not have the courage. He thought it might be best to ask Ori.

Bilbo had trouble repeating the words to the young Dwarf, and when he did, Ori turned red so fast Bilbo wondered if he'd mispronounced the words horrendously. 

"No, no, those words are correct." Ori stutters. "Um, they're very... well. Personal? Very intimate, I think. Maybe you should speak to him about it."

"O-oh. Alright, I guess I must." Bilbo nodded and left as swiftly as he could, not wanting to embarrass himself or the little Dwarf even more than they already were. 

Bilbo conceded to the fact that he must confront Thorin.

He chose to do so the next morning, after replying to Thorin's daily greeting with a soft one of his arm.

"A-ah, would you mind- can I ask you something?" Bilbo stutters. 

Thorin glanced at him with a curious expression. "Of course. What troubles you, Master Burglar?"

"What is it you say to me, every morning?" Bilbo blurts out. 

Thorin flushes, turning red faster than Bilbo imaged the Dwarf King possibly could. "Uh- well. Why do you wish to know?"

"Well, I haven't been taught those words." Bilbo starts carefully. "So I asked Ori what they meant, and he told me I should ask you."

Thorin glances away, and rubbed the back of his neck wearily. 

"I-if you do not wish to tell me, that is alright!" Bilbo says quickly. He was dying of curiosity, but he hated the thought of making Thorin uncomfortable. 

"What is it that Kili and Fili told you to say?" Thorin asks.

Bilbo startles, and repeats what they told him. 

Thorin stares at him, incredulous. "They told you to say that? To who?"

"To you." Bilbo frowns. "What... what does it mean, exactly?"

"Did they tell you what it meant?" Thorin asks, staring at him hard.

"They said it was a polite thing to say to your King." Bilbo answers, dread filling his stomach. "And that I must not say it to anyone else."

Thorin sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "Damn them."

"What does it mean?" 

Thorin flushes again. "You are my One, and I am devoted to you." He says. "Is what it means."

Bilbo gapes, blushing right up to the tips of his pointed ears. "I-I... what?"

"Do you mean it?" Thorin suddenly asks. 

Bilbo tries to form words, but he finds that none are coming to his mind. Instead, he just nods, and lets out a pitiful whimper. Now he'd gone and done it. Thorin probably thought he was a strange and horrid Hobbit.

A hand gripped his chin, and Bilbo found himself staring up into Thorin's eyes. "Do you honestly mean it?" Thorin demands.

Bilbo pauses for a moment, and thinks that the turmoil in his stomach is going to make him throw up. "Yes." He finally says. 

Thorin gauges him for a moment, before smiling gently and loosening his grip on Bilbo's chin. "I'm glad." He finally says.

Bilbo flushes, and purses his lips for fear of saying something that will embarrass him.

Thorin coughs, and with a firm voice he repeats when he says every morning. "It means," He says, "Good morning Bilbo, my treasure of all treasures."

Bilbo's eyes widen, and Thorin looks away gruffly, embarrassed. 

But Bilbo was grinning, and bravely leans forward to wrap his arms around Thorin's waist. 

Thorin, despite all his kingliness, placed his hand on the back of Bilbo's neck and drew him in closer. _"My treasure of all treasures..."_


	27. Calamity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo struggles after the Battle of the Five Armies.

Bilbo liked to garden.

It was a Hobbit thing, he supposed. He wasn't particularly skilful, not like some of the Hobbits known around the Shire, but most of his plants would survive. 

There were not many gardening opportunities in Erebor, so he had had to improvise. He'd scouted out a small area just outside of the mountain that was hidden from most travellers unless one went looking for it specifically. There he had made his garden, with little wood barriers marking out the beds and a coloured ribbon tied around each post to mark where a specific plant grew.

His garden was his sanctuary. After the Battle of the Five Armies, the thoughts that moved around Bilbo's head had changed. Sometimes, when he wasn't focusing, the sharp intake of breathe that Thorin produced would pierce his thoughts hard enough to make him jump. Other times, the echoing thud of Fili being tossed down the small cliff face by Azog made him gag.

He had a lot of nightmares over that Battle. When he started sharing a bed with Thorin, they had disappeared, for a short while. The comforting weight of Thorin settled tight against him, and the gentle puffs of warm breath that would just lightly touch his cheek or the back of his neck were able to reassure him that Thorin and his sister-sons still lived, that the Battle had not taken them, that Thorin had not died in his arms and that he was still with his beloved and his company of Dwarves.

But not even the might of the great Dwarven King could keep him from descending into a maddening spiral of depression and anxiety that impeded on his daily life and kept him awake for countless hours at night.

The other Dwarves didn't know. He didn't want them to, because he didn't want them to think of him as weak. He needed to be strong for them, because rebuilding Erebor was difficult and it was not something he could help with. He could only help by doing little things - cooking dinners, ferrying notes, being a strong pillar of support that they could rely on. 

Being in his garden helped, a little. It was a place he could control, right down to the smallest detail. It was a place of his own, that reminded him of his old life, of the old Hobbit he used to be.

It reminded him of what he now had, and how grateful he was that what he cherished so had not been wrenched from his grip.

But the garden didn't always help.

Sometimes he'd scream and cry in his room, all alone, because he couldn't get the sound of Thorin's laboured breaths out of his head. Sometimes he woke up, drenched in sweat and crying out for help because he'd dreamt that his hands were covered in the blood of the people he loved and that he was all alone on that battlefield. Sometimes he didn't eat dinner and could only hide himself away in the bathroom to throw up because the smell of blood and death and grief was so imprinted into his mind that it felt like it was coming straight from his skin.

Thorin knew he struggled. The Dwarf King agonized over Bilbo's distress, and refused to leave him by himself.

Thorin could not help Bilbo, and he knew it. He knew that his embrace and his hushed whispers of reassurance and the soft press of his lips to Bilbo's forehead could not chase away the nightmares or stop the screams.

But it helped.

Being with Thorin helped, and having constant affection and reassurance from Thorin helped.

When he was in his garden, with Thorin pressed against his side as they sat against the base of a tall oak tree with nothing on their minds and their fingers tangled together, Bilbo wondered why he was afraid of closing his eyes to sleep.

Bilbo couldn't be healed quickly, they both knew that. It would take years for him to stop throwing up at the sight of blood, and to stop crying and shivering in a cold sweat when he woke with a plea for help on his lips.

He hoped he would get better. Thorin believed he would, and firmly reminded Bilbo of that as much as he could - Bilbo hoped with all he had in him that Thorin was right, that he could get better.

He didn't know what would happen to him if he didn't.


	28. See My Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo questions Thorin's kingliness.

"I've committed a crime, Bilbo! A _crime!"_

Bilbo huffed as Thorin heaved him into the throne room. "And you need me as a hostage, why?"

Thorin grins, something sly and cheeky that reminded Bilbo strongly of the Dwarf's sister-sons. "Because no Dwarf in this mountain would dare harm me if you, my love, so happened to be in the firing line."

Bilbo rolls his eyes at Thorin's antics, and allows himself to be seated in Thorin's lap as the King takes his place on his throne. "Are you sure that you are, in fact, a King?"

"Well of course I am!" Thorin laughs, pushing his face into the crook of Bilbo's neck in an attempt to contain his grin. "Do you not see my crown?"

"Oh, I see it." Bilbo says, amused, as he runs his fingers over the smooth planes of the crown that sat atop Thorin's head comfortably. "But a crown does not make a King, and I am questioning your authority at the moment."

Thorin laughs, and squeezes Bilbo's waist. "Hush, now! You are my captive, and I command you not to speak."

Bilbo chuckled, and settled against Thorin's chest with a murmured, "Whatever you wish, my King."

Not a moment later did Kili and Fili burst into the room, looking flushed and vaguely irritated. They both had wooden swords in their hands, and Bilbo thought that they might have been training with Thorin just moments later. 

"Uncle-" Kili starts, before letting out such an outraged gasp that Bilbo startles from it. "How _dare_ you!"

"You cannot use Bilbo as a Hobbit shield!" Fili cries in indignation, waving around his sword. "That is an outrage."

"Release Uncle Bilbo right this instant!" Kili demands firmly.

Bilbo tried not to smile, he really did. Kili had started calling him Uncle after his marriage to Thorin, but it had taken some time. The Hobbit was silently chuffed whenever Kili called him that, because it showed testament to how comfortable the young Dwarf finally was with the Hobbit holding such a firm place in his life. Fili didn't call him Uncle as often, but Bilbo did not mind - Fili was the more responsible of the two, and did not need as much affection and, dare he say it, _mothering_ from Bilbo as his younger brother did.

"I shall not relinquish my treasure!" Thorin declares in a booming voice that could not quite hide his amusement. "He is mine to ravish and do with as I please."

Kili let out an indignant squawk. 

"Relinquish the treasure, or we will be forced to act!" Fili shouts, brandishing his wooden sword after elbowing Kili to get him to do the same. "We will take the treasure for ourselves!"

"Oh, really now?" Thorin quirks a brow, and stands to deposit Bilbo on his throne. 

Bilbo tried not to listen after that, because there was only so much second-hand embarrassment he could handle. Instead, he lounged on the throne and idly fiddled with the royal braid Thorin weaved into his hair each morning. The cold roundness of Thorin's bead always made him startle, but he loved to see it in his hair. 

By the time it was all over, Thorin had his two sister-sons pinned to the ground, and he was roughly ruffling their hair in a rather parental matter. Bilbo couldn't help but chuckle at their groans and cries of displeasure, and at Thorin's cackles of success. 

Really, Dwarves could be so childish sometimes.

"I win, Dwarflings!" Thorin booms, gripping Fili tighter.

"We are not," Kili grouses, _"Dwarflings!"_

"You will always be Dwarflings to me, nephew." Thorin declares, abruptly standing. He makes his way over to Bilbo, and with a strength that still shocks Bilbo to this day, lifts him up into his arms straight from the seat of the throne. "I shall claim my prize now."

"Since when did I agree to be a prize?" Bilbo chuckles, though he makes no move to leave Thorin's grip. 

"My love, you have always been the greatest prize for me to chase after." Thorin croons.

Kili gags as his brother helps him up, and makes no effort to hide his sour expression that bordered on a pout. "I wanted the prize." He whines.

Thorin grins proudly. "He is all mine."

Bilbo rolls his eyes. "Such childishness." He says. "Are you quite sure you're a King?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure." Thorin grins slyly as he farewells his put out nephews and leaves the throne room. Bilbo recognised the path that the Dwarf took as the quickest one to their shared room. 

Bilbo flushed at the realisation, but he settled into Thorin's embrace.

Thorin may be a fool of a Dwarf at times, but he was Bilbo's fool, and that's all that mattered.


	29. The Lull Of Someplace Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A calming moment before sleep overtakes the royal couple.

Living in Erebor was peaceful. Bilbo found that he did miss the Shire occasionally, but being surrounded by the company of Dwarves and having Thorin's affection whenever he so needed it focused sorely on himself chased away any lingering thoughts about his old home.

"What are you thinking of?" Thorin murmurs quietly as he strokes his fingers through Bilbo's tangled curls.

The Hobbit shrugs, and buries himself deeper into the thick quilts and furs piled onto their bed. Thorin lay on his back, one arm behind his head. Bilbo stayed curl into his side, sated by the warmth that blanketed the room.

"Nothing in particular." He answers sleepily. "The Shire, my old home. My new home."

"Do you wish to visit?" Thorin asks.

Bilbo shakes his head, smiling faintly. "Not at the moment." He was pleased that Thorin said "visit" and not "return", because Thorin had often worried about Bilbo wanting to leave Erebor at the beginning of their courtship. 

"Some other time, then." Thorin says as he lets his fingers drift down to the braid woven through Bilbo's hair. The Hobbit had let it grow a little long by male Hobbit standards, but he had wished for a braid so that he may be more like the Dwarves, and he was very pleased when Thorin announced it was long enough for him to plait.

Bilbo hummed, but did not speak, and slipped his arm around Thorin's waist comfortably. Thorin's hand moved down to the back of his neck, and gave him a gentle squeeze, before he smoothed his palm down Bilbo's waist. "This is very comfortable." He murmurs.

"It is." Thorin agrees, muffling a yawn. The fire in their fireplace was slowly dying out, but the embers still danced above the tips of the flames and warmed the room. "I hardly wish to ever move again."

Bilbo chuckles and closes his eyes, resting his head on Thorin's chest. Faintly, very faintly, he could hear the steady, relaxed beating of Thorin's heart and it brought a sense of calm to the Hobbit like nothing else ever had or ever would. "I agree..." He answered around a yawn.

"You are tired." Thorin observes, gently moving down bed to lay against the pillows more comfortably. He was careful not to jostle Bilbo, who hardly made a sound of protest. "I am, as well. We shall sleep, now."

"If you say so." Bilbo smiles faintly, turning to nose at Thorin's skin.

Thorin chuckles, and slips his arms around Bilbo loosely. The extra warmth lulled Bilbo further into sleep, but his content smile remained. He may have missed the Shire every now and then, but he would not leave Erebor and Thorin for all the treasure in the world.

Thorin could tell the exact moment that sleep washed over his One. There wasn't much of a change, per say, or anything particularly noticeable, but his darling Hobbit would simply melt into his embrace and his soft lips would part ever so slightly - only then was Thorin sure he was truly asleep. It was one of his favourite things to do, to watch Bilbo fall asleep, content and safe in his arms. 

It didn't take long for him to follow.


	30. A Heart For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has given the best part of his heart into Thorin's hands.

Hobbits were not made for journeys. The gold and greatness of Erebor overwhelmed Bilbo - made him feel as though he was drowning in opulence that dirtied at his touch. 

The greatness of the Lonely Mountain was not meant for a simple Hobbit. It was meant for Dwarves, and for a great Dwarven King. 

That King could no longer be Thorin Oakenshield.

The Gold Sickness was something Bilbo had never encountered before. In fact, he was sure it was something no Hobbit had ever had the misfortune of witnessing. The... _disease_ was something that _terrified_ him, right down to his core.

He had never seen a person deteriorate into such a threatening mess of a King so obsessed with trivial matters that he could no longer stand the company of his friends quite so fast. Thorin terrified him, and that fear no longer stemmed from the excitement and greatness of a journey Bilbo had so longed for. No, that fear came from the terror of his own life being at risk, because he no longer trusted Thorin with it in his hands.

And that destroyed Bilbo.

It tore him into pieces, like nothing ever had before and like nothing ever would again. 

It made his heart ache so fiercely to know that Thorin would choose the gold over him, after everything they had been through. After all the whispered promises of happiness and the comforting brush of strong, battle calloused hands down his arms and across his cheeks. After _everything-_

And none of it mattered anymore. Not to Thorin; no, the Dwarven King was so plagued that none of it _mattered anymore._

Because the King did not use his hands to comfort Bilbo any longer. Those hands, so big and warm and gentle would wrap around his throat and squeeze with all their might. They would force him against the edge of the wall that overlooked the Elven Army beating on their doors, and refuse to let go.

Those hands felt as if they could simply reach into his chest and pull out his heart, regardless of the arteries and the veins and everything else that kept it firmly in place.

Because Bilbo did not feel like he had his heart anymore. Not all of it. The part that kept insistently beating from day to day remained, because when Bilbo was completely alone he could hear its lonely beating, and he was alone so, so much without Thorin standing at his back. 

No, he did not have all his heart anymore. The part that made life worth living, the part that would fill with adoration and thrum with affection and positively sing when Thorin gave him that cheeky little smile and a murmured _"I love you so, my little Burglar"..._

That part had already been consumed by the gold sickness, been swallowed by the blackness that stained the magnificent halls of Erebor and plagued the minds of the Dwarves who had once been proud, mighty leaders. The gold sickness had taken everything from Thorin, even the parts of Thorin that had once belonged to others.

That part of Bilbo's heart, which he had so readily handed over to Thorin, was gone.

And he didn't know if it would ever return.


	31. Child Of The Kindly West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Dwarves sing, Bilbo contemplates his home in the east.

Bilbo relaxed as the plates previously heaped with food gradually emptied and a billowing warmth filled the dining hall. The fireplaces roared and crackled; for a while, Bilbo was hypnotized by the flames.

As such, he hardly noticed when the deep, rumbling voices of the company of Dwarves gently began to hum a song in Khuzdul. The language was something he had picked up over time, but their songs were not things he made an effort to translate in his mind.

They were just as beautiful without him knowing their meaning. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thorin gesture him over. It took him a moment to coordinate his limbs, which had become lax under the effect of the food and warmth, but he eventually stood and made his way over to the great Dwarven King. 

Thorin's arms were thick and sturdy as they pulled Bilbo down across his lap, mindful of the arms of the chair on either side. Bilbo ignored the knowing grins from Kili and Fili and settled into Thorin's embrace, resting his cheek against the Dwarf's shoulder and gently nosing at his neck. Thorin's hair, left out to flow down his back tonight, tickled his cheek a little but he did not mind.

Although Thorin had a wondrous voice, he did not sing very loudly. Still, Bilbo could feel the rumbles of his chest through their combined layers of clothing, and they made his stomach tingle. 

A state of mixed consciousness overcame Bilbo. Life in Erebor treated him well; him, a Child of the Kindly West, could live and thrive in the East with the mightiest of Dwarves. The Battle of the Five Armies was now a thing of the past, spoken about in tales by travellers who told of a creature called a Hobbit and the Dwarven King Oakenshield helping reclaim the Lonely Mountain from a fearsome dragon. 

Bilbo often wondered if the Hobbits in the Shire ever heard those tales, or if they believed them. Many of his possessions had been ferried from Bag-End to Erebor. He left Bag-End to no one, should he one day need it. He believed that his second cousin Drogo could have use of it some day, considering the fact that he was now married. 

But thoughts of the Shire never remained for long in his mind, Bilbo found. There was much better things for him to think of here in the east, where he had firmly planted his roots. There may have been less sunlight deep in Erebor, but he found that he preferred the company of Thorin and the Dwarves over the loneliness he had felt in his Shire home. 

The voices of the Dwarves began to merge into something so beautiful it made the hairs on Bilbo's arms stand. He let out a deep breathe, and nosed at Thorin more insistently until the Dwarf began to run his warm hand up and down Bilbo's back. His toes curled and he absently rubbed his feet together as Thorin paused to place a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. 

Thorin's scent was very distinctive, and very noticeable from this close. Bilbo found comfort in it - his One smelt like the earth and something somewhat spicy, like ground nutmeg. It was very much Thorin, and very much home. 

"Are you alright, my love?" Thorin murmured quietly as he turned his eyes away from the room and down to Bilbo.

The Hobbit nodded, patting Thorin's abdomen reassuringly. "Yes, I am alright."

"Are you comfortable?" Thorin asks, absentmindedly placing several more kisses along Bilbo's forehead. 

Bilbo wiggled his shoulders, burying himself further into the furs Thorin wore to stave off the cold of the inner mountain. "Very much so." He answers. "You are quite cushiony."

Thorin chuckled. Bilbo could again feel the vibrations reverberating through Thorin's chest. "What are you implying, Master Burglar?"

Bilbo laughed quietly. "Nothing at all, my King. Just that you are the most comfortable to rest against."

Thorin smiled into his hair, wordlessly brushing away the stray curls that fell out of his braid and into his face. "You are a wonder, my darling. I love you so very much."

Bilbo smiled, gripping Thorin's free hand tightly when the Dwarf offered it. It was not often that Thorin got so affectionate while in the company of others. Usually, he only spoke so openly while they were together in their rooms, and beside their growing oak tree in Bilbo's private garden. "And I love you." He answers with a soft kiss placed on Thorin's collar. 

And he really did; love Thorin, that is. Despite their tumultuous meeting, and all the events that had happened on his unexpected journey, he really did love Thorin with all his heart. Thorin had saved him from the loneliness of being alone in the Shire, and given him a home of which he was extremely grateful for here in Erebor. 

People may call him a Child of the Kindly West, but Bilbo believed that he truly belonged to the East.

With the Dwarves, and with Thorin.

There was no place he'd rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for staying with me through this month. This is the most I've written in a long time, and I am very grateful for all your support and comments! They make my day, truly.   
> I will continue on to February starting tomorrow, and I think I might start writing AU's as well as canon-verse. If there is anything you would like to see, don't be afraid to comment! I don't always reply, but I read every comment, and I don't mind requests :)  
> Thanks again~! ^////^


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